


Delicate

by hollycomb



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 04:35:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 48,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollycomb/pseuds/hollycomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an away mission goes awry, Kirk, Sulu, and Chekov are marooned on a strange, seemingly uninhabited planet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sulu has had nightmares about crashing since he was nine years old. First it was his bike, then the prop plane he learned to fly during high school, and lately it's the _Enterprise_ , driving headlong into some furious sun. The nightmares are the only time he's ever afraid of failing on that level, and in the seconds after he wakes from them he feels ashamed of himself for his subconscious doubt. He knows, when he's awake, that he'll never crash.   
  
And then one day he does, after a surprise attack is launched against him as he leaves Tybilliya. He's way off course and the radio is dead, not only jammed but fried by whatever weapon the Tybilliyian guerrilla forces used before he managed to escape their fire, his back thrusters blown off. Kirk is sitting next to him, screaming into his communicator as if someone will hear him way out here in the dead outer quadrants of space. Sulu knew they shouldn't have taken this mission. Kirk volunteered, and he brought Chekov, too, because Chekov is a genius and the Tybillyians lured them to their planet with a distress call about dark matter unearthed by miners. Now they've barely escaped with their lives, and they're going to die in space if Sulu doesn't break the atmosphere of a remote planet even Chekov can't identify and crash land onto whatever they find there. Chekov's ears are bleeding when he leans between Sulu and Kirk to look at the sparking monitors, which are showing nothing but warning messages and confused nonsense.  
  
"Your ears," Sulu manages to say, and Chekov looks at him. Two hours before they boarded the shuttle to Tybilliya, they got into a fight. Sulu didn't want Chekov along on this mission. It's too dangerous. Chekov is too young. Chekov resented this, of course. Sulu caught Chekov's arm before he could storm away, and he kissed him, because it was the only way he knew how to explain the real reason he didn't want him in any danger. Chekov stared at Sulu with open wonder, his cheeks going pink, then he kissed Sulu back, sighing into his mouth with what sounded like relief, and Sulu had never in his life known happiness like that. Now they're going to die, and Chekov is looking at Sulu like he forgives him, but Sulu doesn't deserve to be forgiven. He should have been more calm and decisive during the attack. He shouldn't have tried to conserve energy by putting the back shields at eight percent. He should tell Chekov, now, before they crash, that he loves him more than flying and space and every star in every galaxy that they'll never see together.  
  
"Hold on to something!" Kirk screams when they break through the atmosphere. Sulu wants to scoff, because, how helpful, but he can't make any sound at all, can only stare through the shuttle's front window at the planet that is rushing up to meet them as he yanks impotently at the controls. He can hear Chekov breathing even around the scream of the shuttle as it cuts across the purplish sky of the terraform planet below. He sees jungle and snow-capped mountains and rivers and an ocean. Yanking on the controls, he tries to steer the shuttle toward land.  
  
"Sulu, isn't there an emergency chute?" Kirk screams.   
  
"Only individual chutes!" Sulu shouts. Chekov is touching Sulu's shoulder now. Sulu doesn't want to die before he gets another chance to kiss him. "The shuttle's chute was melted in the blast that hit the back end!"  
  
"Then the individuals, yeah?" Kirk says, getting up from his seat.   
  
"There's no time!" Sulu shouts back. "We won't even get a chance to evacuate before --"  
  
And then the treetops are _right there_ , and Chekov is squeezing Sulu's shoulders, and Sulu is wishing he had time to turn around and look at him once more before they both die.  
  
*  
  
He wakes up to wet leaves and the sound of someone coughing. The shuttle is in pieces around him, and Kirk is to his left, up on his hands and knees, his head tucked to his chest. His clothes are ripped and bloody, but he seems okay. Sulu looks down at himself. There's a piece of jagged metal sticking out of his left ankle and making his whole leg throb with pain, but it's not very big, and when he pulls it out it comes away clean. Blood leaks from the cut like he's turned on a spigot, and he has to look away. Chekov is nowhere to be seen.  
  
"No," he says, looking at the ruined shuttle craft. There's blood splattered on the front window. He doesn't understand how he and Kirk have survived, but if they have, Chekov must have, too. There are distant, unfriendly animal sounds coming from the jungle landscape around them as Sulu crawls toward the shuttle, his leg aching terribly. The planet's sun is still out, but the jungle is so thick that it feels like early evening within it, except for the patch of light that is streaming down through the hole that the shuttle tore in tree canopy.   
  
"That was some landing, Sulu," Kirk says, laughing a little. He's on his knees now, looking around. "Where's little Chekov?" he asks, suddenly panicked, and the _little_ is so devastatingly appropriate in this situation that Sulu stops in his tracks, afraid to look inside the shuttle.  
  
"Chekov!" Kirk shouts, bounding forward to rip the ruined door away. Sulu can't read his expression when he looks inside; Kirk is always stony-faced when there's a job to do, whether it's saving someone's life or burying them properly. He hurries forward to help Kirk lift Chekov out of the shuttle, and when Chekov makes a little sound, a tiny, irritated moan of pain, Sulu struggles not to fall apart with relief. Chekov looks up at him blearily, sucking on his bleeding lip, and Sulu wants to believe in every all-powerful force every alien culture has ever worshiped, because it must be true, all of it, everything good that anyone ever hoped for. He all but wrenches Chekov from Kirk's arms and cradles him against his chest, bringing him away from the wrecked shuttle.  
  
"Are you okay?" Sulu asks, kneeling down to look into Chekov's face. He's got a bruised cheek and that cut on his lip, and he's shaking terribly, but he seems relatively unharmed.   
  
"I am okay, Hikaru," Chekov says, smiling weakly. Sulu wants to kiss his face a thousand times, but he can't bring himself to do it with Kirk watching, so he only squeezes him, trying to seem as if he's checking for further injuries.   
  
"I can't believe we survived that!" Kirk says. Sulu is still staring at Chekov, who is smiling up at Sulu as if he's proud of him, and Sulu doesn't deserve that, either, but he'll take it.  
  
"Where are we?" Sulu asks. He lets Chekov sit up, aware of the fact that he's been coddling him as if he's an infant.   
  
"It is an uncharted planet, I believe," Chekov says as Sulu helps him to stand. Sulu can barely manage it himself, with his leg still leaking blood. Chekov notices this and bends down to examine the cut, then takes his shirt off to tie it around Sulu's ankle. Sulu has never seen Chekov in his undershirt before, and his arms are definitely not as delicate-looking as Sulu expected. Sulu is light-headed, thinking crazily of Chekov's arms at a time like this, and he stumbles back against the trunk of a tree. Chekov and Kirk both rush forward to steady him.   
  
"Is he alright?" Kirk asks, slinging one of Sulu's arms around his shoulders.   
  
"He has lost some blood, but this will stop the bleeding," Chekov says, bending down again to tighten the makeshift bandage around Sulu's ankle. "We should find a safe place to rest."  
  
"Let's salvage what we can from this," Kirk says, approaching the shuttle. He comes away with the useless communicator and an emergency kit which is essentially just a portable replicator. It can't make food, but at least they can get simple medical supplies and maybe blankets from it. Chekov begins fooling with the busted control panel, pulling away components and shoving them into a canvas bag he got from the replicator.  
  
"How long is that thing's battery life?" Sulu asks, nodding to the replicator.  
  
"Should last for a few months if it was fully charged before take off," Kirk says. "Chekov -- what are you doing?" he asks as the control panel sparks and spits at Chekov, who yanks his hands away, cursing.  
  
"These are parts we cannot replicate, Keptin," Chekov says. "Complex things we could use with your communicator to maybe contact someone."   
  
"Well, just make sure it's not the wrong someone. We've still got a pack of Tybilliyian warthogs out there trying to find us and kill us."  
  
"That diplomatic mission went a little awry, huh?" Sulu says, ready to pummel Kirk for almost getting Chekov killed. Sulu had nothing to do with the negotiations on Tybilliya; he was just the pilot. Kirk gives him a betrayed look.  
  
"It was an ambush!" he says.   
  
"We should go now," Chekov says, stepping between them. "It is not safe here, I do not think. We should find a source of fresh water to clean our wounds."  
  
"Yeah, fine," Sulu mutters. "Let's just go stomping around an untouched planet that we know nothing about."  
  
"What's the alternative?" Kirk asks. He slaps Chekov's back. "You sure you're okay?" he asks.  
  
Chekov shrugs. "Is strange," he says. "That we are not more gravely injured."  
  
"Maybe we're dead and this is some kind of ghost planet," Sulu says. Kirk and Chekov both give him disbelieving looks.  
  
"What, I can't make a joke about death yet?" Sulu asks. "Too soon?"  
  
Chekov grins, at least.  
  
*  
  
They find a clearing near a lagoon where the water seems fresh, and Chekov uses the replicator to produce some kind of chemical that tells him the water is safe for drinking. Sulu has forgotten so much of his basic chemistry since the Academy, and he's pretty impressed as he bends down beside Chekov to gulp handfuls of water.  
  
"Here," Kirk says, nudging Sulu's shoulder. "I made cups."  
  
"You should be careful how you use that thing," Sulu says. "Captain," he adds, trying not to let his resentment show. Sulu and Kirk have always been friends, but in the professional sense, Sulu has some issues with Kirk's leadership style. Kirk is good at making decisions under pressure, great in a fight, and frighteningly creative, but he's fucking lousy with people who aren't women he's looking to screw, and it's gotten them in trouble more times than Sulu can count.   
  
"What the hell do you mean?" Kirk asks as he dips his mug down into the water.   
  
"He is speaking of the battery life of the replicator, sir," Chekov says. "We should conserve it. However, I do believe that drinking vessels are somewhat essential."   
  
"Somewhat but not absolutely," Sulu says. His head is killing him and he's in a pretty terrible mood. "A canteen would make more sense."   
  
"Fuck, fine," Kirk says. "From now on I'll consult Mr. Sulu before I replicate."   
  
"You should consult Chekov, too," Sulu says. "I'm pretty sure he's smarter than me." He gives Chekov a grin and is way too pleased, considering the dire circumstances, when Chekov smiles back shyly.  
  
"Chekov's smarter than everyone," Kirk says. "C'mon, it's getting dark. We should find a place to sleep."  
  
They walk down into a deep valley as the sun begins to set, then toward the beach, which is covered with very fine, pinkish sand. Kirk chooses the place to build the shelter, and Sulu is too tired to argue, so he doesn't say that they should walk back and build it closer to the caves they passed or at least within pissing distance of the stream that runs parallel to the valley. They work silently and unharrassed by whatever wildlife is around; so far they've only spotted a few flashes of what might be feathers streaking through the trees. By the time darkness has fallen they've put up a serviceable tent and outfitted it with sleeping bags and flashlights.   
  
"Tomorrow we'll work on getting the communicator functioning," Kirk says. "And maybe we'll make a sturdier lean-to. Just in case. " Kirk squeezes Chekov's shoulder, which annoys Sulu, who climbs into the tent.   
  
They fall asleep without eating and without much conversation. Sulu can hear Chekov's stomach growling. Or maybe that's Kirk's. In the middle of the night, Sulu wakes up confused and cold; the temperature has dropped considerably since the sun went down. He can hear the ocean's quiet menace close by, the waves crashing like the ticking of a clock. He looks over at Chekov, who is lying on his back and staring at the ceiling of the tent. When he sees Sulu twitching around Chekov turns to him. His eyes are big and bright in the dull moonlight through the roof of the tent. He looks like he hasn't slept at all. Kirk is snoring heartily.  
  
Chekov reaches over to touch Sulu's sleeve. His hand lingers there as if he doesn't know what to do next, though he doesn't seem nervous but rather eerily calm. Sulu rolls onto his side and takes Chekov's hand, kissing it very softly, across his knuckles and then down to his wrist. Sulu wants to tell him that he's glad to be here, that if Chekov has to be stranded Sulu is grateful to be stranded along with him. Back on the Enterprise, everyone will think that they're dead. Sulu couldn't have borne that, all the uncertainty and fear about Chekov's safety. He's glad, too, that Chekov isn't stuck on the ship, worrying about him. That he doesn't have to live out this ordeal without Chekov.   
  
Sulu doesn't say anything, and Chekov scoots closer, stopping just a few inches short of pressing his face to Sulu's. He pushes his knees against the edge of Sulu's sleeping bag and reaches for Sulu's hand, then kisses it the same way Sulu kissed his. Sulu's cock stirs when he thinks about how he could teach Chekov everything, that Chekov would eagerly and adorably imitate him: the way he kisses, the way he sucks cock. He wants Chekov so badly that he flushes, the inside of his sleeping bag baking with the heat of his body.   
  
"Hikaru," Chekov whispers. "I can't sleep."   
  
"I know," Sulu says. "C'mere."   
  
He pulls Chekov to him, and he can feel Chekov hesitate, thinking of Kirk, but he pushes his face against Sulu's chest anyway, sighing and closing his eyes as Sulu strokes his hair. Sulu expects Chekov to fall asleep like this, but it's Sulu who falls asleep with his fingers tangled in Chekov's curls, and when he wakes up Chekov is on the other side of the tent again.   
  
*  
  
The first day is busy and long and very hot. Chekov works with the communication equipment he managed to salvage from the shuttle, his tongue poking from between his lips and his brow furrowed as he makes delicate adjustments to the chips and wires. Sulu and Kirk construct the beginnings of a shelter, shouting at each other and throwing tools around in frustration. It shouldn't be this hard for two people with degrees in advanced astrophysics to construct a fucking box made of wood, but between rationing supplies from the replicator and Kirk's eschewing of measuring anything there are plenty of roadblocks. It doesn't help that they're both starving.   
  
"We should look for some edible vegetation," Chekov says.   
  
"How the hell will we know if it's edible or not?" Sulu asks, and then he feels bad. His head is still pounding; he feels like he's close to going crazy, and they haven't been here for twenty-four hours.   
  
"I can preform some tests, as I did with the water," Chekov says. Sulu nods apologetically. Kirk groans.   
  
"What about some meat?" Kirk says. "We could kill a boar or something."   
  
"Yeah, I'm sure this place is just lousy with boars," Sulu says with a scoff, though actually it's possible. The planet has proven very Earth-like so far, aside from the uncanny purple-green color of its sky.   
  
"I mean boar equivalents," Kirk says. "Or whatever, maybe something chicken-like. Everybody okay with me pulling a bow and arrow out of this thing?" he asks, gesturing to the replicator.   
  
"Fine by me," Sulu says, because he's actually a pretty good archer and it will be a chance to show off.   
  
They find no animals available to kill, but they do find a tree full of slender fruit with dark red skin, and Chekov determines it to probably be edible.   
  
"I'll try it first," Sulu says. "Then we'll wait an hour, and if I'm not dead, you two can eat."   
  
"I should do it," Kirk says, yanking the fruit out of Sulu's hand. "I'm the Captain. I'm responsible for your lives. And it is kind of my fault. Kind of. That we're here."   
  
"You just want to eat first," Sulu says, smirking as Kirk picks a piece of the fruit's flesh out from the peel. It's firmish and white, and actually looks really appetizing, considering how hungry they all are. Chekov crosses his arms over his chest, looking nervous as Kirk pops the fruit into his mouth. Kirk chews loudly, nodding.   
  
"It's bland," he says. "But not disgusting or anything. It's kinda like a potato banana?"  
  
"Yum," Sulu says with a snort. "Here, give me a piece."  
  
"I thought we were going to wait an hour?"  
  
"Fuck it, I'm hungry."  
  
They eat hungrily and without talking, and Chekov surprises everyone by eating more than Sulu and Kirk. There's a sense of trepidation when they're through, all of them waiting for something terrible to happen, but the worst they get is stomach cramps from eating too fast. They sit by their partially constructed shelter and stare at it, sweating and waiting for their bodies to turn the fruit into energy.   
  
"How's it coming with the communicator?" Kirk asks Chekov.   
  
"Not very good, _Keptin_. The parts I took are compromised, not working. But I will keep trying."  
  
"'Atta boy. Don't worry. We'll figure something out." Kirk elbows Sulu. "Right?" he says, as if he and Sulu are Chekov's parents and they need to stand united in comforting him with what are probably lies. Sulu grunts noncommittally. He doesn't like it when other people treat Chekov like a child who needs protection. Only Sulu should be allowed to treat him that way, and under the right circumstances. He imagines what it would be like to take Chekov's virginity, how terrified he would be of hurting him, and how sort of honored he would be, too. They would both tremble and it would take hours and Chekov's eyes would fall half-closed and go unfocused --  
  
"Sulu!" Kirk shouts. "Did the potato bananas make you deaf?" He actually sounds a little sincerely worried that they might have.  
  
"Huh? No. What is it?"  
  
"I asked you if you're ready to get back to work."  
  
"Oh, sure." Sulu glances at Chekov guiltily, but Chekov is seemingly deep in thought, frowning as he contemplates a charred data chip.  
  
By the end of the day, the shelter's walls and floor are constructed, the tent they slept in the night before serving as a temporary roof. Chekov has gotten nowhere with the communicator, and he seems frustrated, sitting quietly with his shoulders slumped and his face drawn. Sulu builds a fire and Kirk treks off to gather some more fruit for dinner. When he's gone, Sulu gets up and sits beside Chekov.   
  
"I need parts I cannot get from the replicator," Chekov says. "Without them, I do not know -- I do not know what will happen to us." He looks at Sulu sadly, as if he's failed to save everyone. He's saved Kirk and Sulu before, and Sulu wants to tell him that he doesn't owe either of them anything more, and should in fact hate them both equally for their roles in getting him into this mess, but he only puts his arm around Chekov's shoulders.   
  
"It's okay," Sulu says. "At least we're together. And we could have landed on a much less hospitable planet."   
  
"You talk as if we are here for good," Chekov says glumly.  
  
"I'm not saying that, just that while we're waiting to be rescued, this set up isn't bad, you know?"   
  
Chekov groans a little and presses his face against Sulu's neck, which feels so good, not only the heat of Chekov's cheeks but the gesture itself, sweet and needy and already so natural, as if they didn't waste a year on board the Enterprise pretending that they hadn't been falling in love with each other since they first took her out to space together. Sulu pulls Chekov closer and kisses his temple very softly, then checks over his shoulder to make sure Kirk isn't already on his way back. When he looks back, Chekov is watching his face, his head tilted a bit and his eyelids heavy, lips parted. He clearly wants to be kissed, hard, on the mouth, the way Sulu kissed him before they boarded the shuttle for this nightmare mission. Sulu feels suddenly nervous, because they've only done this once before, and Kirk could catch them, but he's not sure when they'll get the chance to be alone again. Chekov scoots even closer, and he's warm against Sulu's side, damp with sweat.   
  
"You're right," Chekov says. "It is not so bad, if we must be here. We are together." His face turns red as he speaks, somehow making his freckles more obvious. Sulu almost moans with the need to kiss him. Chekov whimpers into Sulu's mouth as Sulu licks his lips apart, and Sulu swallows it up, so hungry for this that he's worried he'll frighten Chekov, but Chekov is breathing harshly into Sulu and clinging so hard to his shirt that Sulu is afraid it will tear. Every time Chekov's tongue brushes across the tip of Sulu's it's like being struck by lightening, and Sulu wants it again and again, until he's nothing but a pile of ashes.  
  
"Pavel," Sulu says softly, pressing his face to Chekov's as they catch their breath. Just being able to say Chekov's name feels like a privilege, and Sulu can't believe how happy he is, despite everything, and how little the reality of their bleak situation seems to matter when he's holding Chekov like this, the pale green of his eyes blanking out the rest of the landscape.  
  
"When we are rescued, when we can be alone, I think I want to sleep in your bed," Chekov says, very quietly and with his cheeks still blazing. This time Sulu does groan, because he can't _take_ it, how much he wants Chekov and how perfectly Chekov keeps offering himself up. Sulu kisses him again, pulling him almost into his lap, and when Chekov yelps and jerks away Sulu knows it's because he's seen Kirk approaching. Sulu stands and pulls his hand through his hair, wondering how much Kirk saw. He's not sure why he's worried, except that now isn't really the best time to be preoccupied with romance. Though maybe Kirk couldn't really complain about that; he's been known to mix business and pleasure in the past. Of course, being stranded without communicators isn't exactly business as usual.  
  
"Here we go," Kirk says, dumping an armload full of fruit on the ground near the fire. "You think the replicator could make spices?"   
  
There's an awkward silence, and Sulu looks everywhere but at Chekov. He meets Kirk's eyes and sees understanding and forgiveness there, which he should have expected. Kirk smiles a little and shrugs.  
  
"Spices," Chekov says dreamily, and Sulu can't help laughing out loud.   
  
*  
  
That night, there's a bad storm and they lose the roof of their makeshift hut. They stumble through the rain, looking for the caves they passed on the way out of the jungle, almost completely blinded by the driving rain and grasping at each other for traction. Chekov somehow loses a shoe, then slips and cuts his foot. Sulu is carrying him by the time they find the caves, his arms shaking with exhaustion.   
  
"Bring him here," Kirk says when they're out of the rain. Kirk sets his flashlight down and unrolls the sleeping bag that he wrapped the replicator in. The replicator has gotten a little wet, and they all let out their breath in relief when it successfully produces bandages and towels. Chekov is shaking against Sulu's chest as Kirk bandages his foot, his lips bluish in the low light. As soon as Sulu opens his mouth to ask Kirk to get blankets for Chekov from the replicator he realizes he's already doing it.   
  
"I am alright," Chekov says, grumbling and irritated by Sulu and Kirk's need to distract themselves from the hopeless muck of this situation by taking care of him as if he's an invalid or an infant or both. He wraps himself up in the blankets and hunches back against the wall of the cave, sighing heavily.   
  
"We'll build a better roof tomorrow," Kirk says, and Sulu can't decide if he hates Kirk for being so goddamn obvious or loves him for remaining hopeful. For Sulu, it's always a little of both where Kirk is involved.   
  
"Can you get some kind of heater from that thing?" Sulu asks, nodding to the replicator.   
  
"A heater is too complex, these portable models cannot produce machines," Chekov says. Sulu already kind of knew that, but at least he's making conversation, so they don't have to sit around only dripping and shivering until the rain stops.   
  
"I can make a fire," Kirk says. "Unless -- shit. This thing won't give me dry wood, will it?"   
  
Chekov shakes his head. "It cannot produce organic materials," he says before tucking his head down against his knees, which he's drawn up to his chest. He's still shaking, and Sulu puts an arm around him.   
"Let's at least get some dry clothes," he says.  
  
They undress, Sulu feeling awkward and Kirk seemingly without a second thought, Chekov hiding under the blanket as he peels off his wet clothes. There is some scrambling toweling off and then they put on fresh clothes from the replicator; none of them fit quite right but it's better than freezing to death. The air inside the cave is frigid, and the temperature outside feels as if it dropped to below zero along when the rain shower began. Sulu can hear Chekov's teeth chattering in the darkness, and he gets more blankets from the replicator.   
  
"We're going to wear this thing out faster than we thought we would," Sulu mutters as he wraps a third blanket around Chekov. The blankets the replicator produces aren't exactly heavy-duty or very warm; they're made from slippery synthetic material.   
  
"If that's what it takes to survive, that's what we'll have to do," Kirk says. "Maybe we should make a list, tomorrow morning, of things to stockpile before the battery goes. You know, we could prioritize it and everything--"  
  
"Captain, I think he's in shock," Sulu says, holding Chekov's shoulders and trying to get him to look up. "Pavel!" he says, shaking him. Chekov seems to be struggling to say something, but then his head just drops forward listlessly as he begins shaking harder. "Pavel -- fuck, he's freezing, he's --"  
  
"Thermal sleeping bag," Kirk says to the replicator, cursing when what comes out looks as if it's hardly emergency-medicine grade. He unzips it and Sulu helps Chekov into it, his heart hammering and his mind unable to latch onto any remotely coherent thoughts, everything snagging on cold, primal fear. Just a few hours ago he was kissing Chekov. Just a few hours ago Chekov was so fucking warm.   
  
"You need to strip," Kirk says when Chekov won't stop shaking and can't seem to open his eyes, his skin like ice when Sulu reaches into the pile of blankets he's wrapped in to check his pulse, which is sluggish. Sulu nods without thinking; this is one of those moments, and he's had them before, when he'll do anything Kirk asks of him without question. Sulu is not easily prone to panic, but in certain situations, like falling to his death at a thousand miles a minute or watching Chekov's freckled cheeks turn blue, he wouldn't want anybody but Kirk around to help him keep his shit together.   
  
While Sulu pulls his freshly replicated clothes off, Kirk yanks the blankets away from Chekov and begins to undress him, too. Sulu knows what he has in mind, body heat, and it could work, but Chekov looks so small and white under Kirk's hands, and Sulu is terrified that he's not going to be able to save him.  
  
"C'mon, hurry," Kirk says, leaving only Chekov's briefs in place, and Sulu should have thought to leave his own underwear on, but it's too late now and there's no time for modesty. He scrambles into the sleeping bag beside Chekov and pulls him into his arms as Kirk wraps the blankets around both of them and then zips the sleeping bag up to their ears. Chekov is like a block of ice in Sulu's arms, his eyes half-open and unfocused and his shoulders jerking as he shudders. Sulu pulls him as close to his chest as he can, his heart thundering and his own arms shaking with fear. Kirk gets a towel and rubs it through Chekov's hair, trying to get it as dry as possible.  
  
"I don't know if it's working," Sulu says, his voice an embarrassing little tremble. "I'm pretty cold myself, and, and --"  
  
"Here," Kirk says, and he brings the towel over to dry Sulu's hair as well. "Just give me a second. It'll be okay. Just hold on to him, and -- give me a second."  
  
Sulu nods, tucking his head down against Chekov's icy forehead as hot tears begin to creep into the corners of his eyes. He feels like his hands and arms aren't big enough, like he can't cover enough of Chekov's skin with his. He's so paralyzed with the fear of losing Chekov that at first he hardly notices that Kirk's naked cock is swinging near his nose as he climbs down into the huddle of blankets with them.   
  
"This'll help," Kirk says, and Sulu just nods again, because in the moment it does seem like a brilliant idea. Lightening flashes outside, illuminating the cave for a split second, then thunder that sounds like it could start an avalanche booms in accompaniment, echoing all around them. The sleeping bag can barely contain the three of them, especially with all the blankets, but Sulu can already feel a change in temperature as Kirk wraps himself around Chekov's back, one of his hands coming to rest on Sulu's neck, which seems to raise his own body temperature instantly.  
  
"You're alright, Pavel," Kirk says, squeezing them all together even closer, his grip on Sulu's neck tightening. Something about his use of Chekov's first name breaks through Sulu's pure panic, and he begins to consider the strangeness of the situation. Still, if it helps Chekov recover, he'll dance the tango with Kirk, naked except for a tiara. He shuts his eyes and reaches around to pull Kirk more tightly against Chekov, as if that's even possible at this point. Kirk feels warmer than both of them, and seems so calm and sure, but when Sulu presses a thumb against Kirk's neck he can feel his pulse hammering.   
  
Chekov sniffles against the hollow of Sulu's throat, and Sulu meets Kirk's eyes over Chekov's head, taking this as a good sign. Kirk grins a little, and Sulu gets a weird, sort of queasy feeling in his stomach. He looks down at Chekov, who is still shivering, though less violently now.  
  
"Pavel?" he says softly, and Chekov sniffles again.   
  
"He's okay," Kirk says, taking his hand from Sulu's neck to place it over the crown of Chekov's head. "Just let him rest. He's gonna be fine."   
  
Sulu's vague queasy feeling shoots instantly into extreme annoyance. _Don't tell me what to do with him_ , he thinks furiously. He feels like he's been tricked. Kirk, with his ridiculously huge cock, is lying naked against Sulu's maybe boyfriend's back, bringing him back to life when Sulu couldn't. Sulu knows he's an asshole for even thinking this and scoffs at himself, pressing a warm kiss against Chekov's forehead, partially to reassert his ownership. He can feel Kirk trying to meet his eyes but won't cooperate. He sighs hugely, moving all three of their bodies with it, and shuts his eyes, his hand curling into a fist on Kirk's back.  
  
*  
  
Sulu sleeps more deeply than he expected to, sweating against Chekov's chest as they all begin to grow warm inside the cocoon of blankets. Chekov makes soft noises of recovery in his sleep, and Kirk doesn't snore, so he must be awake. Sulu keeps his eyes closed until he can feel Chekov stirring in his arms like a chick trying to hatch. He opens his eyes and loosens his grip on Chekov, who rolls onto his back with a sigh. Kirk is already awake, propped up on an elbow as he looks down at Chekov, still so close. Too close. Sulu wants him gone, but Chekov doesn't seem as if he's in a hurry to get rid of Kirk or remove himself from the heat trapped between their bodies. He turns from Sulu to give Kirk a delirious little smile.  
  
"I'm sorry," he says softly.   
  
"Don't be sorry," Kirk and Sulu say at the same time, and Sulu finally meets Kirk's eyes then, which is like a punch in the stomach. Their faces are maybe four inches apart as they both lean up over Chekov. Sulu looks away from Kirk quickly, blushing. For some reason he feels like he's the only here who's naked.   
  
"Should we – what should we do?" Sulu asks. Embarrassed by the question, he tells himself he shouldn't be; Kirk is still the Captain, the one who makes command decisions. Sulu slides his arm across Chekov's chest and closes his hand around Chekov's shoulder. Chekov moans a little and presses his face to Sulu's chest, shutting his eyes. A shudder of excitement moves through Sulu at the proximity of Chekov's heat-swollen rosebud lips to Sulu's rock hard nipple. He hates Kirk for seeing them together like this, when everything is still a first. This is the first time they've woken up pressed together, and the first time Sulu's semi-erect cock has been pressed to Chekov's bare thigh.   
  
"He'll need protein," Kirk says.   
  
"Great, so we should kill a boar?"  
  
Chekov laughs, the puff of his hot breath against Sulu's nipple bringing his cock from semi- to almost fully erect. Chekov rolls against Sulu as if to hide Sulu's erection from Kirk, or maybe to press against it. Sulu swallows heavily, trying to will his arousal away, because he doesn't want the musky smell of Kirk's sleep-damp skin to have any part in it. He holds Chekov against him and sighs with relief as Kirk climbs out of the sleeping bag.  
  
"I'll find some food and bring it here," Kirk says. He gets the canteen that he set outside the mouth of the cave – when did that happen? – and brings it to Chekov, who sits up in Sulu's arms and drinks the rainwater eagerly. Some water escapes from his mouth and rolls down his jaw, dripping onto his pale neck, and, oh, God, Sulu is hard.   
  
"Thank you, _Keptin_ ," Chekov says, breathless from gulping the water as he hands the canteen back. He huddles in Sulu's arms and shivers a little. Every slight shift of his body makes Sulu's cock throb, and he doesn't like the feeling that it's got something to do with having an audience. He kisses Chekov's forehead and listens to the sound of Kirk dressing, buckling his belt and zipping his fly.  
  
"Sure is a lot warmer with that sun out," Kirk says. He's probably embarrassed, too, acting awkwardly, which Sulu didn't think was possible. "I'll be back in a jiffy with something for you to eat, Pavel," he says.  
  
"Hikaru," Chekov whispers as Kirk walks off with his pack slung over his shoulder. Chekov tips his face up to Sulu's and bats his lashes as if he's about to say something very serious. "What does this mean, 'jiffy?'"  
  
"It's an old slang word for 'fast,'" Sulu says. He laughs a little and kisses Chekov's nose.  
  
"Oh! I thought it was vehicle of some kind."  
  
Sulu smiles against Chekov's forehead and pulls him closer, relaxing into the feeling of holding him now that Kirk is gone. He arranges the blankets around Chekov's exposed shoulder, though Kirk is right, it's much warmer now.  
  
"You really scared the shit out of me," Sulu says, not sure if he should make a joke about his erection or just pretend that it's not there.  
  
"I'm sorry." Chekov kisses Sulu's neck timidly. "Hikaru." His hand skims down over Sulu's bare side. "Do you really think the _Keptin_ will be back -- jiffy?"  
  
"In a jiffy. And I doubt it, he's got no idea what he's even looking for. Why?"  
  
Chekov shrugs and looks up at Sulu, giving him a bashful smile. Sulu kisses him, reminding himself to be gentle, that Chekov is still weak. Chekov shifts and Sulu laughs into his mouth when he realizes that Chekov is hard, too.   
  
"You should save your strength," Sulu whispers.   
  
"You make me feel strong," Chekov says. He humps against Sulu's thigh, and Sulu chews the tip of his tongue to keep from bursting into nervous, hysterical laughter. Chekov is so, so young, nervous and clumsy and eager, and Sulu is kissing him probably harder than he should.  
  
"Do you think we will escape this place?" Chekov asks, his lips still pressed to Sulu's. He sounds excited by the idea that they might not, and terrified, too, his breath coming fast.  
  
"Yes," Sulu says.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I don't know. Because you and Kirk are here. You're the smartest guy I know, and he's the luckiest."  
  
"Luckiest, Hikaru?" Chekov smirks. "You think there is no skill and intelligence involved in the _Keptin_ 's luck?"  
  
"Fine, he's really impressive." This goes a long way toward killing Sulu's hardon, but Chekov laughs impishly and wraps his hand around it, and Sulu groans, thrusting into Chekov's grip.   
  
"I was not scared last night," Chekov says, watching Sulu's blissed-out face with open wonder as he strokes him. "Because you were here. I knew you would take care of me."   
  
"And that Kirk would." Sulu doesn't really want to pursue this line of thinking while Chekov's hand is on his dick, but he can't help it.  
  
"Yes," Chekov says. He sits up on his elbow and puts his mouth on Sulu's ear, licking at the lobe with his hot little tongue, melting Sulu to nothing. "I knew you two would take care of me, because you both owed me one, _da_?"  
  
Sulu laughs and nods, bucking up into Chekov's hand and reaching around to touch his ass, which feels vaguely illegal, but Chekov moans happily when Sulu rubs him there. Sulu feels very young and dumbly eager himself, not sure what to do first as Chekov licks his way down his neck and into the hollow of his throat.  
  
"I seriously didn't plan on molesting you the morning after you almost died," Sulu says, panting, getting close as Chekov's grip on him tightens.  
  
"I -- _ah_ \-- did not plan, either, but you were so hard against me, Hikaru, _bozhe moi_ , felt good."   
  
Sulu growls and pins Chekov, forgetting his fragility and grinding down against him, making him gasp and hump upward desperately. Chekov is nodding wildly, as if Sulu needs encouragement, his lust-blown eyes locked on Sulu's.  
  
"This is what you do when you are happy to be alive," Chekov says, grabbing Sulu's arms and bracing himself on them as he ruts up against him, their cocks rubbing together crazily until Chekov moans and arches, his head flung back as his hot come paints Sulu's stomach. Sulu reaches down and grabs his own cock, staring at Chekov's twitching, pink, fucking gorgeous dick as the last of his come dribbles from the tip. Sulu comes with his teeth gritted, feeling like he'll die from it as he watches his seed splash across Chekov's flushed skin. He sinks down, gluing himself against Chekov and kissing him, both of them breathless, Chekov's hands still tight around Sulu's biceps.  
  
"God," Sulu whispers, rubbing his nose against Chekov's. They're both breathing hard, chests heaving together. "I wish I had a picture of you just like you are right now."  
  
Chekov grins. "Covered in your come?" he says. "Malnourished, half-dead?"  
  
"Helpless," Sulu says, whispering it down into Chekov's mouth. "Mine."   
  
Chekov pushes out a little whimper, and Sulu swallows it down. They're still kissing, lazy and hot, when Sulu hears someone clear his throat. Kirk. Right. Sulu had actually managed to forget all about him for a moment.  
  
"Shit," Sulu whispers, wincing. Chekov's eyes are huge, his heart pounding against Sulu's chest.   
  
"Uh," Kirk says. "You want me to --?"  
  
"I didn't -- that was fast," Sulu says.  
  
"Yeah," Kirk agrees with a snort, and Sulu burns with anger, wondering how much he saw, or overheard.   
  
"I got some of those potato bananas, and some snails,” Kirk says. “I tested one of the snails, so. Not poisonous."   
  
Chekov is staring up at Sulu, his cheeks burning, eyes wide. Sulu shakes his head as if to tell him not to worry about it.  
  
"Well -- we'll get dressed and meet you outside the cave, alright?" Sulu says, his words a little sharp, because Kirk might have offered this plan himself instead of just standing there like an idiot.  
  
"Alright," Kirk says, and he's quickly gone. Sulu lets out his breath and Chekov drapes an arm over his eyes dramatically.   
  
"Hikaru," he whispers. "I feel terrible."  
  
"Don't -- why? I'm the one taking advantage of a teenager. I'm sure that's how he sees it, anyway." Sulu gropes around near the sleeping bag and finds Chekov's clothes, passing them to him.   
  
"Yes, but -- we -- sent him to get food for us while we did this thing together. Is a little rude, I think."  
  
"I guess." Sulu uses one of the blankets to clean Chekov's chest and then his own. "But I wouldn't worry about Kirk getting offended if you and I -- take advantage of our time alone together. Hell, he's more likely to ask for a threesome than get all sensitive about being left out."  
  
"Hikaru!" Chekov says, wrinkling his nose.  
  
"Too soon?" Hikaru says with a smirk, and Chekov smacks his arm, grinning.  
  
They go outside, the air having the humid, murky quality of the day after a very significant event, in this case the storm that almost killed Chekov. Among other things. Kirk is leaning against the rocky cliff wall outside the mouth of the cave, staring off into the distance, the sack of food hanging on his shoulder. He's chewing on a snail, and he throws its shell into the rocks as Sulu and Chekov make their way over.  
  
"Thank you, _Keptin_ ," Chekov says before Kirk has even offered him any food. Chekov is blushing brilliantly and Sulu probably is, too; his whole body feels itchy and overheated. He wishes he could pull Chekov into a hot shower and wash him and do it all over again, a marathon of sex and naps, hot water and soap. He accepts a potato banana from Kirk and shakes his head at the snails, which are sliming around blindly at the bottom of Kirk's sack.  
  
"They're not bad," Kirk says. Sulu watches Chekov eat one, and he can see that he's trying not to show his disgust for the texture.  
  
"Protein," Kirk says. He does seem a little moody, but probably just because he didn't sleep.   
  
They walk back down through the valley to inspect the remains of their camp. The hut is still mostly intact, though the walls will need to be patched in places and the roof will need to be completely rebuilt. Sulu and Kirk go to work immediately, refusing to let Chekov help. He sits wrapped in the blanket that Sulu used to wipe up their come and stares out at the ocean, which is still a little wild from the storm.   
  
"What the fuck is the matter with you?" Kirk asks when he and Sulu head into the forest to get more wood. Sulu turns and frowns, thinking he's misheard him.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"That -- whatever you were doing -- in the cave? Are you crazy?"  
  
Kirk isn't looking at Sulu. He's holding an ax and pushing against the trunk of a thin tree as if he's checking to make sure it's sturdy enough to qualify.   
  
"Maybe you should get some sleep," Sulu says sharply. Kirk turns to glare at him.  
  
"Is that an order?"  
  
"Jesus." Sulu's face is burning. He's aware that he's acting like an idiot, and Kirk has every right to call him on it. He shakes his head and stares up at the swaying treetops.   
  
"I just don't know what you were thinking, Hikaru," Kirk says. He takes a swing at the tree, wood splintering from it. "This is not the fucking time."  
  
"I know. I'm sorry. There was nakedness involved, okay?"  
  
"Yeah, no kidding. Some of us were able to control ourselves."  
  
"Well -- you're not -- you don't see him -- that way. Do you?"  
  
"Fuck no." Kirk turns to glare at him again. Sulu isn't sure why he feels like he's winning this fight -- because he's the one who came all over Chekov's chest this morning?   
  
"He's practically a child," Kirk says, muttering. He turns back to the tree and hammers at it with the ax. Sulu just stands there holding the lathe he'll use to make boards from the trunk, wondering if he should go back to the replicator and get another ax. Kirk is wailing on the tree like it has personally offended him.  
  
"He was the one egging me on," Sulu says, maybe bragging a little. "But -- I know -- you're right about the timing being bad. I'm sorry, okay? Jesus, take a breath."  
  
Kirk stops and pants, stumbling backward a little, the ax still lodged in the tree trunk. Sulu catches Kirk's shoulders and steadies him. Kirk's skin is burning like radiation under his shirt. His sweat smells a little bit like the snails.  
  
"You need to get some sleep," Sulu says, giving his back a pat. Kirk bends over and puts his hands on his knees, panting down at the ground.  
  
"Fuck," he says, huffing the word out. "It's my fault we're stuck here. This whole thing's my fault."  
  
"It's not -- if I'd have flown smarter --"  
  
A cracking sound silences Sulu, and he grabs Kirk's arm, pulling him away from the tree, which topples toward the earth with the ear-splitting sound of shredding wood. Kirk pushes Sulu down to a crouching position and huddles around him, needing to protect somebody from something, as ever. Apparently saving Chekov's life last night wasn't enough. Sulu looks up once the dust has settled, branches still rattling irritably, the tree lying diagonally across the ground behind them.   
  
Sulu doesn't want to continue the argument about Chekov, so he just sits on the ground with his hands slumped between his legs and stares at the tree. Kirk does the same. Sulu feels like now might be the time for hysterical laughter, the kind that bubbles out after a near-death experience, but nothing comes. They sit there for awhile like they're waiting for the tree to get up and walk away.  
  
"No, but you shouldn't feel bad," Kirk says after the insects have begun to sing again. "About wanting him. I just thought, before, that you were actually fucking. But you weren't, right?"  
  
"Of course not." Sulu's face burns as he tries to imagine the view Kirk had: Sulu on top of Chekov inside the sleeping bag, the muscles on Sulu's back moving as he ground his hips down, Chekov panting and squeezing his arms.   
  
"Good. But I should have known you'd end up together. You're both so --" Kirk holds up his hand and makes a gesture like a bird flying away, or something blowing off carelessly into the wind.   
  
"So what?"  
  
"I don't know. I had this aunt who thought she could see people's auras. I think I know what she meant. It's not a literal thing -- you can only see the light someone gives off, or doesn't, after you've gotten to know them. Like Bones, his is all bluish and smoky like a dive bar. Uhura's is kind of fiery, and, like, clean? And you and Pavel, you have this superhuman brilliant white light that hurts to look at. But it's just as vulnerable as it is powerful? Or something? Like something you want to protect."  
  
Sulu stares until Kirk looks back, and then they both laugh hard, Sulu's cheeks aching with it.  
  
"Those snails clearly have hallucinogenic properties," Sulu says. He stands and offers Kirk a hand. "Let's go back and make sure Pavel isn't trying to walk on water or something."   
  
Kirk grins and stares at the ground as they walk. Sulu didn't realize that Kirk was the saddest person he'd ever met until they'd been in space together for six months and he noticed the way Kirk looks at Bones and Uhura and even Spock, like he's dying to be loved best of all by every one of them, even when he's being hard on them, maybe especially then. Sulu never thought Kirk's neediness extended to Chekov, and certainly not to Sulu. Kirk has always seemed to class the two of them differently, as if they're slightly irritating younger brothers who he needs to keep in line.   
  
They get back to the camp and find Chekov curled up inside the blanket and sleeping peacefully, his back to an embankment of rocks that protects him from the wind off the ocean. Sulu kisses his cheek and nudges him until he wakes up a little.  
  
"You okay?" he whispers. Chekov blinks up at him and smiles.  
  
"Did I fall asleep?" he asks.  
  
"It's okay. But come with us, alright? It's not safe for you to sleep out here by yourself."  
  
Chekov moans a little and stands. Sulu thinks he knows what Kirk is talking about, actually: Bones with his bluish smoke, Uhura with her sharp fire, and Pavel almost too bright and pure to look at directly. Sulu just doesn't understand how Kirk can see him that way, too. Sulu is nothing like Chekov. He's not open or innocent, and is rarely full of wonder the way that Chekov is, observing before judging.   
  
They get another ax from the replicator and return to the felled tree. Chopping it into chunks and hauling them back to the camp takes the remainder of the day, and they have to stop twice to eat potato bananas for energy. By the time the sun starts to set Sulu is exhausted, and he stretches out on his back on a mossy hill that overlooks the camp, catching his breath and staring up at the sky as its colors change with the coming night. Chekov is even more exhausted than he is, and almost as soon as he lies down beside Sulu, resting his head on Sulu's chest, he's asleep again.  
  
Sulu turns to look down at the camp, where Kirk is starting a fire. He's sluggish in his movements, and Sulu hopes there will be no fresh disasters tonight so that Kirk can get some rest.   
  
"Ain't that a pretty picture?" Kirk says, looking up at Sulu and Chekov. Sulu smirks and looks away, embarrassed. The wind is getting colder. He curls his arm more tightly around Chekov's shoulder, and Chekov whines a little under his breath with the disturbance, as if he's afraid Sulu will make him get up.   
  
"This is what I used to do when I was a kid," Sulu says when Kirk walks up onto the hill to sit beside them.   
  
"What? Stare at the sky?"  
  
"Yeah. For hours. Daydreaming. My mom thought I was going to be a philosopher or something, like I was having deep thoughts. I was just thinking about being up there."  
  
"I'm sure you've never had a deep thought," Kirk says. He grins and leans back on his elbows. His shirt is soaked down the front with sweat, and Sulu's is, too. Chekov is damp; they all smell horrible.   
  
"I guess we should, like, bathe at some point," Sulu says.  
  
"Suggestion noted. We need to finish that roof tomorrow."  
  
"Yep."   
  
Kirk leans back all the way, moaning as if it hurts to do so, and it probably does. Sulu's back is killing him. He can't remember the last time he had reason to do this much manual labor.   
  
"We could have landed on worse planets," Kirk says. "Or nowhere."  
  
"Is that some kind of thank you?"  
  
"I guess so. To both of you. Though, really, we all just got lucky. Surviving that crash alone."  
  
Sulu is deflated by the reminder of the crash just as easily as Kirk's previous comment puffed him up. This is how Kirk has always been with Sulu: supporting him, then putting him in his place.  
  
"Do we get to name this planet, then?" Sulu says. He's scratching slow fingers through Chekov's curls, and he makes himself stop, because it seems like something he shouldn't do in front of Kirk, though it was kind of nice, showing someone else how well he can care for Chekov now that he's allowed to, letting it out in the open at last.   
  
"Yeah," Kirk says. "I say we do. What should we call it?"  
  
"I don't know. Maybe we could combine our names somehow."  
  
"First names or last names?"  
  
"Last names, right? Like." Sulu pauses to think. "Sucheki."  
  
"Oh, you get to be first, huh? Sucheki? That sounds like some kind of lame card game. How about -- Kirkulukov?"  
  
"Yeah, that's much more dignified."  
  
They laugh, waking Chekov, who sits up and rubs at his face like a little boy. He looks over at Kirk and then back at Sulu as if to ask them what's going on.   
  
"How about Chekuluirk?" Sulu says, tucking a curl behind Chekov's ear.  
  
"What?" Chekov asks blearily.  
  
"I like that, actually," Kirk says. "But it should be 'Check-ooh-lehrk.' That sounds more, I don't know. Professional."  
  
"Professional?"  
  
"Cultured."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Chekov asks, sounding a little distressed, and Sulu can't help laughing hard along with Kirk. He pulls Chekov back down to him and kisses his ear in apology.   
  
"May the gods of Chekuluirk send us something other than potato bananas and ass snails for dinner," Sulu says.  
  
"Ass snails?" Kirk says, still laughing hard, Chekov giggling a little now, too.  
  
"That's what they taste like."  
  
They boil their dirty clothes and replicate new ones. There's a discussion about how many sets of clothing each of them should have, but no conclusion is reached. They fry potato bananas for dinner, and they taste much better this way, sweeter.   
  
The sky is clear, and they sleep in their roofless hut, very deeply, Sulu curled around Chekov and Kirk on his back on the other side of the hut, snoring like a champion.


	2. Chapter 2

At first, there is so much to do that they barely notice the time passing. They finish their shelter, stockpile essential supplies from the replicator and assess the food supply situation. Chekov becomes obsessed with mapping the island, and Sulu goes with him on expeditions during the day, sitting beside him and keeping an eye out for danger while Chekov works, his tongue poking from between his lips as he frowns down at his notebook and sketches the terrain. Sulu gets the feeling that Chekov likes this, being able to hand-draw a map, and sometimes he can't stop himself from kissing Chekov's temple as he draws little sticks with triangles on them to represent trees. Chekov lets Sulu name the new species of plants they discover, more every day, and Chekov names the animals. They keep an extensive list in the back of the notebook that Sulu carries, where he sometimes makes observations about bird behavior or sap viscosity. Mostly he just sits beside Chekov and watches the landscape, feeling calm and strangely happy. He's always enjoyed exploring new planets, and so far this feels like a pleasantly unstructured scientific mission, one that he can interrupt around sunset by pulling Chekov into his lap and kissing him until Chekov is laughing against Sulu's lips and unbuttoning his trousers.  
  
Kirk is in charge of the food situation, which seems odd at first, considering his status as Captain, but aside from security there is really nothing more important than maintaining a food supply while they wait to be rescued. When Sulu and Chekov stumble back into camp at the end of the day, fresh from coming in each other's hands, their cheeks still flushed, Kirk will have a fire going and something to eat, usually fish and mashed potato bananas. He's an accomplished fisherman already, of course. Sulu still hasn't managed to shoot anything boar-like with the bow and arrow, but he carries it around on his back when he ventures around the valley with Chekov, his cock always a little bit hard from the primal feeling of protecting Chekov. He's used the replicator to make several swords, but there's an art in sword construction that the replicator is not capable of, and he's been thinking about raw materials, maybe attempting to make a sword the old-fashioned way.  
  
For Sulu the whole thing feels a little bit like a second childhood, a fantasy of escaping to Neverland and making up his own rules, living in a tree fort, spending his days adventuring. He doesn't think much about how or when they might be rescued, not at the beginning. When the three of them eat together around the fire, Sulu can see that Kirk is thinking about it, worried. Kirk is quiet, efficient and serious, his expression grave as he eats, pretending to listen to Chekov babble endlessly about everything they saw during the day.  
  
"Maybe you should come along with us tomorrow," Sulu says to Kirk one night. Kirk's eyes lift from the bowl of soup he'd been slurping from. It's got little calm-like creatures (Chekuluirk Clams, Sulu has creatively named them) and a fish-based broth, and it's not bad. Sulu is tempted to ask Kirk where he learned how to cook, but for some reason it seems like too personal a question. Kirk doesn't talk about his life before the Academy, at least not with Sulu or Chekov.  
  
"Too much work to do here," Kirk says, shaking his head.  
  
"Well, maybe we could trade," Sulu says. He hates to offer this, but Kirk seems so tired, not his usual plucky self. "You could go with Chekov and I could stay here and get the food together."  
  
"Yes, _Keptin_ ," Chekov says, smiling. "You would enjoy it, I think." Sulu would rather have had Chekov give him a wounded look of protest, but okay. He's worried about Kirk, too.  
  
"Maybe," Kirk says. He grins at Chekov. Sulu's charitable feelings fade to regret. Will they have to switch off now? Sulu was only interested in volunteering one day spent without Chekov leaning back against Sulu's chest while he invents names for alien animals.  
  
"What about the communicator situation?" Sulu says, nodding to the shelter, which houses Chekov's attempts at building something that would send a signal powerful enough to reach a Federation outpost. "Have we given up on that?"  
  
"No, not given up," Chekov says. He frowns down at his soup bowl. "I need to think more about it. When I come back to it I will have different thoughts, new perspective, you see?"  
  
"Sure, I understand," Sulu says, rubbing Chekov's back. He didn't mean to pressure him. He looks up at Kirk and finds Kirk staring blankly ahead, looking in Sulu and Chekov's direction but not really seeing them.  
  
"I don't know about you boys, but I'm beat," Kirk says. He walks over to collect Sulu and Chekov bowls for washing in the stream.  
  
"I can do it," Sulu says, taking Kirk's instead. "You get some rest."  
  
Kirk nods and pats Sulu's shoulder before heading into the shelter. Sulu stands, and he expects Chekov to follow him over to the stream where they wash their dishes so they can have a muttered conversation about Kirk's morale, but Chekov goes into the shelter instead. Jealousy seeps into Sulu's skin, hot and uncomfortable. He knows he's being ridiculous, but he can't help imagining Chekov soothing Kirk's loneliness for a moment while Sulu's back is turned, stroking Kirk's hair and whispering _Keptin_. It's painful mostly because Sulu knows that Kirk needs it, that he needs _something_ from them, something more than what they've given him while they've been so wrapped up in each other. They don't hold each other at night, out of politeness to Kirk, but their sleeping mats are pushed close together, close enough for Sulu to reach over and touch Chekov if he can't sleep, once Kirk is snoring and oblivious. Kirk's mat is against the wall, a good three feet from Sulu's.  
  
Sulu returns to the camp, dries the bowls by the fire and keeps an eye on the shelter. The makeshift door is open, but he can't see inside from where he's standing. His heart is beating a little too fast as he thinks about what would happen if they were here for a long time. Years. It could happen. They might revert to some sort of primitive state. Kirk might fight him for Chekov. Sulu snorts at the thought and shakes his head. He's tired and he's being an idiot. He goes over to the heavy-duty trunk they made to protect their supplies and puts the bowls away, then heads for the shelter. Inside, Kirk is asleep, turned toward the wall, one of the extra blankets pulled up to his ear. Chekov is on his own mat on the other side of the small room, and he turns onto his back and smiles when Sulu looks down at him. Sulu smiles back and turns to shut the door of the shelter, a sloppy thing that isn't fitted properly and mostly just serves to keep the wind off the ocean out. It gets cold here at night, and the warmth during the day seems to be fading just a bit, the season changing.  
  
"Come here," Chekov whispers very softly, really just mouthing the words as Sulu kicks off his boots and settles onto his mat. Sulu scoots over until he's basically lying on Chekov's mat, and looks over his shoulder to make sure that Kirk hasn't moved. Kirk isn't snoring, but he's motionless, still turned away. Sulu looks back to Chekov, who kisses him, his hands tangling in Sulu's shirt. Sulu kisses back and tries not to breathe too loudly, his cock stirring in his trousers.  
  
"Not now," he whispers with a grin, and Chekov nods with understanding, rubbing his nose against Sulu's.  
  
"Someday," Chekov whispers back. "I want you to make me so weak in bed at the end of the day." He bites his lip and leans up to whisper in Sulu's ear. "I want you to fuck me to sleep, Hikaru Sulu."  
  
Sulu barely swallows a groan. He licks his lips and nods frantically in agreement. He hasn't been inside Chekov yet, but they're working up to it, slowly. Sulu always keeps a tube of anti-itch cream in his pack when they go on their expeditions together. For bug bites, he would tell Kirk, if Kirk ever asked. Sulu has been using it to stretch Chekov just a bit wider every day, his cock throbbing with the need to replace his fingers as Chekov groans and fucks himself down onto them. But Chekov is a virgin and Sulu can wait. These things take time.  
  
Tonight, though. The way Chekov is smiling at him wickedly, his cheek pressed to his pillow. Sulu wonders if the time has finally come.  
  
*  
  
The next morning they wake up to soft but steady rainfall, the temperature lower than it usually is during the day. The sky is gray and covered thickly with clouds, thunder rumbling in the distance. For awhile the three of them just kneel at the little window along the back wall of their house, its wooden shutter thrown open and the cold seeping into the shelter. Chekov has a blanket wrapped around his shoulders as he blinks out at the rain, his curls wild and in need of a trim. Kirk is yawning, and Sulu wonders if he's relieved about the excuse to spend the day resting indoors. Sulu would be, except that he barely slept last night, thinking about whether or not he should take Chekov's virginity in the morning, and where they might do it, and how Chekov would arch up against him in ecstasy as he cried and begged for more. Sulu has a blanket wrapped around him, too, but not because he's cold. His morning wood is persisting, aching between his legs as he kneels at the window, Chekov to his left and Kirk to his right. The smell of their sleep-soaked skin isn't helping Sulu lose his boner any faster.  
  
"Doesn't look like it's letting up anytime soon," Sulu says with a defeated sigh. He crawls back over to his mat and dumps himself onto it. Chekov turns to look at him, his eyes sad with longing, and Sulu returns his pout, wanting the same thing, to curl up under a mound of blankets and sleep through the rainy day, wrapped around each other.  
  
"I'm really satisfied with the quality of this roof," Kirk says, looking up at it, and Sulu laughs. "What?" Kirk asks, grinning.  
  
"Nothing, sir," Sulu mutters. He rubs a corner of the blanket over his face. He never thought he'd have to listen to Kirk talk about the hardiness of replicated roof shingles while suffering the heaviest, tightest erection he's ever had in his life. He should have known better than to keep himself awake with thoughts of Chekov last night. He shuts his eyes and thinks crazily about ways he might jerk off without Kirk noticing.  
  
"I guess you two are staying in today, huh?" Kirk says. He sounds pretty cheerful about it, smiling with the kind of ease Sulu hasn't seen on him in awhile.  
  
"Guess so," Sulu says. Kirk is already shuffling the card deck they replicated. Chekov sighs and slumps over to his mat, stretches out on his stomach and opens his map book. Sulu would rather watch Chekov perfect his little drawings of mountains and streams than play cards with Kirk, but he accepts the hand Kirk deals, sitting up with a pained groan, his cock still painfully full.  
  
"Why don't we build a fire pit and a chimney?" Sulu says. "For all we know this is the start of the rainy season."  
  
"Good idea, Lieutenant," Kirk says. He smirks like Sulu's title is a nickname. Kirk never had too many of those for Sulu. He probably sensed Sulu's extreme annoyance when Kirk called him _Rooster_ once on the bridge.  
  
"We could start digging the fire pit today," Sulu says, throwing down a card. They're playing Go Fish. Kirk's favorite.  
  
"Sure thing," Kirk says, but he doesn't move to go outside and get their tools. Sulu is dying for a reason to send him away even for a minute. All he needs is just a few tugs and he could come, and God he needs to come. For some reason the fact that it doesn't look like he'll be able to anytime soon is only arousing him further.  
  
"We might have to build a taller ladder," Sulu says. His voice is tight and he hopes Kirk can't hear the strain. He wonders if Chekov can, but Chekov's pencil is moving busily over his notebook behind Sulu, as if he's ignoring Sulu and Kirk completely.  
  
"I don't think that would be too hard," Kirk says. Kirk and Sulu built the first one together and used it to construct the roof, neither of them willing to let Chekov help, lest he fall or something. Chekov whines about how they treat him like a child, but Sulu thinks he secretly likes the way they cherish and protect him. He certainly seemed to like it when they were in the cave, Sulu and Kirk huddled around him, keeping him warm. Sulu pulls at the collar of his shirt. Thinking about the cave is making his cock leak into his underwear, which is totally counterproductive. He tries to think about something else: the card game, the design they'll use for the chimney, and not about how Kirk might actually understand if Sulu asked him to step out for a moment. But that wouldn't be fair. Maybe Sulu should step out for a moment, though he can't imagine jerking off in the freezing rain. Maybe he should do it just to kill his erection, but, oh, God, he doesn't want that, he wants to come, he needs it --  
  
"Hikaru!" Kirk says sharply, and Sulu looks up. "Your turn." Kirk raises his eyebrows as if to ask Sulu what's wrong with him.  
  
"Right." Sulu shakes his head. "Sorry."  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine."  
  
"'Cause you look a little feverish, actually."  
  
Chekov sits up behind Sulu and scoots forward peer at him with concern. He puts the back of his hand against Sulu's forehead.  
  
"You feel warm, Hikaru," he says, and the softness of his voice rips down the length of Sulu's cock, making him groan involuntarily, his cheeks blazing.  
  
"Are you sick?" Kirk puts down the cards. "Do you need --"  
  
"Jesus!" Sulu says, his heart pounding. "God -- just -- relax, both of you. I'm -- fuck, we're all men here. We all understand, right, what happens sometimes, in the morning?" Sulu looks up at Kirk bashfully, then turns to Chekov, who still seems confused.  
  
"Oh," Kirk says. He scratches at the side of his neck. "Oh."  
  
"You don't mean --" Chekov starts to say, and then his cheeks turn pink, his eyes widening. He giggles nervously and then covers his mouth with his hand.  
  
"Erm, if you want some privacy, me and Chekov could go gather snails," Kirk says. Sulu gives him a look, and Kirk pinches his eyes shut, laughing at himself.  
  
"Right," he says, standing. "You want Chekov here with you."  
  
"Captain." Sulu has never felt so awkward and absurd. He shouldn't have said anything. Chekov seems embarrassed, too, wrapping his blanket more tightly around himself.  
  
"No, it's okay," Kirk says, heading for the door. "Maybe we'll build another shelter, you know. So you two can have some privacy."  
  
Sulu doesn't know why he should hate that idea, but he does. There's something so cruel about it.  
  
"Don't you want to take one of the hooded jackets?" Sulu asks as Kirk pries open the water-logged door. Kirk doesn't answer, and Chekov scrambles over to the interior trunk where they keep the supply of shoes and clothing they got from the replicator. He digs out a windbreaker and a hooded sweatshirt and hurries over to Kirk, who is grunting as he works the door free.  
  
"Here, _Keptin_ ," Chekov says. He hands Kirk the windbreaker and pulls the sweatshirt on. "I will come with you, I will help with the snails. Hikaru can, he can --"  
  
"It's alright," Kirk says, a little sharply. "Just -- Jesus." He turns back to Sulu, his bright eyes sharp with anger, or maybe it's just hurt. "I can't get on you two for being unprofessional, because we might be here for awhile and I know it's not easy, I know you need -- something -- but." He stops there and scoffs, shrugging the windbreaker on. "But you're still being kind of unprofessional."  
  
"Fuck!" Sulu shouts, his erection diminishing rapidly. "I was just trying to be honest, what the fuck do you want me to do?"  
  
"I don't want you to do anything!" Kirk shouts. He steps out into the rain, barefoot and not bothering to close the door. Chekov stands there watching him go, then pulls the hood up over his hair and follows him. Sulu curses as Chekov jogs ahead to Kirk.  
  
"Great," he mutters. "Fucking perfect."  
  
He's no mood now to jerk off but he does it just to spite them, pulling the door closed first. His usual fantasies aren't getting him anywhere, so he opts for one about the two of them, Kirk fucking Chekov hard down on the beach, in the rain, saying, _He opened you up for me, didn't he, worked you nice and slow 'til you were ready for my cock_ , Chekov sobbing out in some mixture of pain and pleasure, crying out _Keptin, Keptin, oh_ and fuck if this doesn't make Sulu come hard enough to scream.  
  
He feels like an asshole afterward, panting up at the roof of the shelter. The stress he's been trying to ignore rushes into him in the aftermath of his orgasm, all his fears about being stuck here forever. It didn't seem so bad when he was distracted by Chekov's sweet advances, the beginning of something that feels like it will be the biggest thing in Sulu's life for a long time, maybe forever. As soon as Chekov's light dances away from him, reality sets in. They are stuck here, and the planet hasn't even begun to reveal its potential cruelties. Sulu shivers in the chilly air and pulls the blanket up to his chin.  
  
He cleans himself up with rainwater and a washcloth, annoyed by the smell of his come that lingers in the small room. He sits on his mat for awhile with his arms hugged to his chest and listens to the rain on the roof. It is a pretty good fucking roof, considering that Sulu doesn't know a thing about construction and did half the work while Kirk issued instructions. Kirk had muttered something about having construction jobs back in Iowa when he was a teenager. Sulu remembers McCoy telling him once that Kirk was a high school dropout. Hard to believe now.  
  
Kirk and Chekov come back soaking wet, Chekov with a pail of snails and Kirk with the front of his windbreaker loaded with the orange-skinned fruit that grows on the tangled bushes by the dunes. Sulu is embarrassed, sitting around after a jerk-off while they gather food.  
  
"Put a lid on that and leave it outside," Kirk says to Chekov, nodding to the snails. "We don't want that smell in here, believe me."  
  
"Yes, _Keptin_ ," Chekov says, and Sulu's guilt morphs to annoyance. He gets towels from the trunk and hands one to Kirk while Chekov goes back out with the snails. Kirk takes the towel and holds Sulu's gaze, pressing a piece of fruit into Sulu's palm like they're making a trade.  
  
"Sorry," Kirk says, and Sulu feels like he's been slapped. Sorry for what? Did something happen with Chekov? Kirk smiles a little and Sulu laughs at himself. Right, they fought, and Kirk is sorry, though he didn't really do anything wrong.  
  
"Yeah, me too," Sulu says, mumbling, embarrassed. Chekov comes back into the shelter and Sulu hurries over to push the wet hood of the sweatshirt back and dry his curls. He's shivering.  
  
"Let's eat some of these orange things for energy and then get started on that fire pit," Kirk says. Sulu can hear his teeth chattering. "It's been getting colder now pretty steadily for a couple of weeks."  
  
"We'll have to tear up the roof to build the chimney," Sulu says. He pulls Chekov's wet clothes off unceremoniously and wraps a blanket around him before going go the trunk to get him some dry things. Chekov seems a little dazed, and Sulu fights back his irrational imaginings of what might have happened between Kirk and Chekov down on the beach. He knows it was nothing, maybe a quiet conversation about the awkwardness of this situation, Chekov apologizing furiously for -- what? Allowing himself to be seduced by Sulu?  
  
When Kirk and Chekov are dressed in dry clothes and huddled under blankets, they sit with Sulu in the middle of the shelter, peeling the thin skin from the fruit Kirk brought back and eating the flesh inside, slurping juice as it rolls down their chins. The fruit -- Chekuluirk Pygmy Citrus -- is like an orange only sweeter, with a hint of something more complex like passion fruit. It's good, but the energy burns off quickly.  
  
"We need to restock our potato bananas," Sulu says. "I'll go get some later."  
  
"We've almost picked those trees clean," Kirk says. "You guys found another grove, didn't you?"  
  
"Two others, sir," Chekov says. "Next time we go across the valley we'll bring bags, come back with fruit. There are other things, too, berries we have tested."  
  
"No herds of wild boar out there, though?" Kirk asks, smirking at Sulu, who snorts.  
  
"Oh, they're out there," Sulu says. "I just haven't found them yet."  
  
He's grateful to Kirk and Chekov for pretending everything is fine, and in the moment he loves them both so much that his chest aches. When they're finished with the fruit they throw the peels out in the rain, and smell of sex is gone, replaced by sharp citrus and rainwater. Kirk and Sulu spend the afternoon making plans for a fire pit and accessories, a line for drying clothes and metal grid they could use for grilling fish and meat, if they ever find any meat. Sulu has tried catching birds, but his heart isn't in it after Chekov has just given them names and drawn little sketches of their plumage in the notebook.  
  
The rain lasts all day, intensifying just as Sulu is leaving on his potato banana expedition. Chekov insists on coming with him, and Sulu tries to send him back but Chekov won't hear it. He does allow Sulu to carry him on his back through the especially muddy patches.  
  
"I was an idiot this morning," Sulu shouts over the rain. "I should have just -- I don't know."  
  
"It is okay, Hikaru." Chekov kisses Sulu behind his ear and Sulu hoists him up higher on his back. "It was first fight you had with Keptin since we crashed here. For two months, this is a good record."  
  
"We had one other fight," Sulu says.  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Yeah. After he, you know. Walked in on you and me in the cave."  
  
"Hmm."  
  
"What do you mean, 'hmm'?"  
  
"I don't mean anything. Here are the trees."  
  
Sulu sets Chekov down, out of breath and trembling with exhaustion. Chekov clambers up the tallest tree, where some fruit remains on the higher branches.  
  
"Be careful," Sulu says, blinking against the raindrops as he watches Chekov climb.  
  
"Is not even very high, Hikaru," Chekov says. He reaches a bundle of fruit and tries to yank it free, grunting with the effort and shaking the tree. Sulu can't help but laugh. He catches the bundle when it falls, and then another. Chekov clambers down a little too quickly and yelps as he loses traction on the wet tree trunk, landing in the mud with splat.  
  
"Careful!" Sulu says, rushing over to him. Chekov winces and touches Sulu's cheek, leaving a muddy hand print there.  
  
"Maybe we should do it here," Chekov says. Thunder booms overhead, the rain coming down harder, though under the canopy it's only splashing against them in irregular drips.  
  
"Do what?" Sulu asks.  
  
"The sex," Chekov whispers. He grins. "I thought about it all night, too, Hikaru."  
  
"Oh, God -- Pavel -- I didn't bring the itch cream, and it's raining, it's cold --"  
  
"We could use mud!" Chekov looks a little crazed. He's squeezing Sulu's arms and pulling him closer, as if this is actually going to happen.  
  
"I'm not deflowering you with _mud_ for lube, God." Sulu pulls Chekov up and into his arms, kissing his cold lips until they're warm beneath his. Chekov rests his head on Sulu's shoulder and smiles up at him.  
  
"As soon as it stops raining, _da_?" Chekov says.  
  
"God, yes." Sulu kisses him deeply, moaning a little, his balls tightening. "Fuck," he whispers. "Maybe we should just tell Kirk to look the other way."  
  
"He is trying to do that already, I think," Chekov says. "Poor _Keptin_."  
  
They walk back to the shelter with the potato bananas and find Kirk inside already starting to cut a hole for the fire pit in the wooden floorboards. Leave it to Kirk to get something done instead of jerking off, though maybe he did that, too. Sulu wonders what he fantasizes about. Hopefully not Chekov. Maybe women, though Sulu has seen him with men, too, on shore leave. Kirk always seems embarrassed about it, kind of secretive, which is weird. Sulu has known people who only go for one gender, but most go for both and he's never known anyone to try and hide it.  
  
The storm outside gets darker and stronger, and when Chekov seems nervous Sulu draws him into his lap, using a hair cut as an excuse. Chekov shivers while Sulu trims his curls, and Sulu works carefully, taking his time with it. Kirk shaves his face on the other side of the shelter, using a mirror he got from the replicator and mounted on the wall. He's the only one of them who needs to shave, and Sulu has never watched him do it before; Kirk usually goes down to the stream. It's kind of fascinating, maybe more for the sound than the sight, that neat little _scratch scratch_ of the razor.  
  
"You want a hair cut, too?" Sulu asks Kirk when Chekov clambers out of his lap. Kirk rinses his razor off in the little basin he's using and inspects his hair in the mirror.  
  
"Sure," Kirk says. "But mine doesn't look as bad as yours." He turns to grin at Sulu, who touches his hair self-consciously.  
  
"It is a little long, Hikaru," Chekov agrees, running a hand through it.  
  
"You kinda look like a hipster," Kirk says.  
  
"God," Sulu says, wincing. He hands the scissors to Chekov, but Chekov shakes his head and backs away.  
  
"I do not want to ruin it!" He looks sincerely distressed, like Sulu's hair is a priceless antique that will need professional restoration.  
  
"I'll do it," Kirk says. "But you do mine first, so I can take revenge if necessary."  
  
Sulu takes his time with Kirk's hair, fearing retribution. It's not as soft as Chekov's, which makes it easier to get right. Sulu checks it in the mirror as he works, Kirk grinning at him every time, as if this is a test and he's amused by Sulu's efforts to pass it. The front is harder to perfect than the back. Chekov observes the whole process with the nervous energy of someone watching a tattoo artist work.  
  
"Nice," Kirk says when Sulu is done. He rubs a hand through his hair, little golden bits of it flinging out like grasshoppers. "Your turn," Kirk says, taking the scissors from Sulu.  
  
Kirk works much more quickly but does a good job, though Sulu thinks his bangs look a little dorky, too short. He laughs when Kirk tries to style his hair for him, smoothing down the part.  
  
"Captain's Log, star date 2260.58," Kirk says, pushing his fingers through Sulu's bangs until they look less dorky. "Today, a moderate rain storm drenched the newly discovered planet Chekuluirk. Plans to build a fire pit in our shelter were introduced by Lieutenant Sulu and approved by myself. Still no boars. Received hair cut from Lieutenant Sulu." He smirks. "Game of Go Fish suspended by emergency boner situation."  
  
"You were losing anyway," Sulu says, blushing and batting Kirk's hands from his hair. He gets up with a sigh and brushes the stray hairs from his shoulders, finding some of Chekov's and Kirk's there, too. He feels claustrophobic for a moment, Kirk still laughing to himself. Sulu goes over to sit with Chekov, who is hugging his elbows and grinning like he thought that was pretty funny, too. Sulu was hoping they wouldn't have to discuss it.  
  
"Hey, you were right," Kirk says to Sulu as he scoops the bits of hair into his palms and dumps them out the window. "There's no point in trying to keep secrets from each other when we're living like this, so close. I mean, look at us, we're cutting each other's hair. If you ever want to disclose another boner, Lieutenant, I won't give you a hard time."  
  
"Thanks, Captain," Sulu says tightly, and Kirk winks at him.  
  
They eat raw potato bananas for dinner and go to sleep early. It's cold, so Sulu suspends his politeness and sleeps wrapped around Chekov. He wakes up in the middle of the night to the sound of Kirk rooting through the trunk of clothes, pulling out a knit hat and an extra sweatshirt. It's still raining outside, and the air outside the blankets that Sulu and Chekov are huddled under is icy.  
  
"If you need to --" Sulu starts to say, not exactly sure what he's offering. Chekov is fast asleep in his arms, so warm against his chest. Kirk looks over with surprise.  
  
"I'm alright," Kirk says, closing the trunk. Sulu can see his hands shaking in the moonlight that spills in through the window.  
  
"We'll start on the chimney tomorrow," Sulu whispers. "And maybe we can shore up the door and the window a little better, so there aren't any cracks --"  
  
"Hikaru, I'm fine." Kirk scoffs and crawls over to his mat, hurrying back under his blankets. Sulu watches the shivering mound of Kirk's blankets, wondering if he should do something. But what? He turns back to Chekov and buries his face in Chekov's curls. It's likely to get even colder than this, and oh, God, what will they do without fruit in the winter time? Sulu pinches his eyes shut and prays for rescue, trying not to think about how much warmer he would be with Kirk wrapped around his back.  
  
*  
  
The rain stops the following afternoon, and it's followed by a day of bright sunshine, the chill momentarily gone from the air. Sulu spends most of the day working on the construction of the chimney with Kirk, Chekov handing them tools and helping them mix concrete. By the time they've got the chimney mostly finished Sulu is exhausted and dripping sweat, and he stumbles off toward the lagoon telling Kirk he's going to wash up. Kirk nods, not looking up from the tools he's cleaning. Sulu catches Chekov's eye as he's going and Chekov smirks, telling him that yes, the plan is understood.  
  
Sulu walks ahead, his heart beating fast, muscles aching and hot from the day's work. He feels more nervous than he expected to, but he didn't forget the itch cream, which is tucked into the pocket of his pants. He begins stripping before he even reaches the lagoon, pulling his shirt off and stepping out of his boots. He drops them at the edge of the water and takes off the rest of his clothes, looking over his shoulder to see if Chekov is coming. Not yet, but Sulu knows he'll find an excuse. He dives into the water, which is cool but not cold, and feels almost virginal himself, at least young enough to remember what it's like. He holds his breath and hovers underwater, opening his eyes to gaze up at the thick yellow sunbeams that pierce the water before swimming through them, feeling stupidly happy, lost in one of his childhood daydreams about adventure, soon to be combined with one of his teenage fantasies about sex. He breaks the surface of the lagoon and takes a gasping breath, grinning when he sees Chekov sitting near the water, tugging off his socks.  
  
"Hikaru," Chekov says, smiling as he stuffs his socks into his boots. "It stopped raining."  
  
"Yeah, I noticed. C'mere."  
  
Sulu is hard just from watching Chekov undress, his hair mussed by the collar of his shirt as he pulls it off, Chekov's cock stiff with anticipation, too. Chekov blushes and adjusts it self-consciously, staring down at Sulu.  
  
"I told the _Keptin_ I was going to wash, too," Chekov says. "I hope he won't follow."  
  
"He won't. C'mon. It's not too cold."  
  
Chekov plugs his nose before taking a running jump into the lagoon, and Sulu laughs. He feels almost regretful for a moment, wishes he would have told Chekov to stand there for a few more seconds, nervous and trembling and smiling sweetly at Sulu, his curls glowing in the late afternoon sun, but then Chekov slides up against Sulu as he surfaces, slick skin and hard cock and big, pretty eyes that are staring deeply into Sulu's, and Sulu is glad he didn't wait another moment. He kisses Chekov until they both start to sink a little, then laughs and pulls him over to the waterfall that pounds into the lagoon, where there are smooth rocks they can sit on.  
  
"Ready?" Sulu shouts over the noise of the waterfall just before they cross underneath it. Chekov nods very seriously and Sulu takes his hand, ducking beneath the water and pulling Chekov along behind him, the sound of the waterfall somehow even more violent when it's muffled by the water.  
  
Sulu sits on one of the smooth underwater rocks, the water just up to his chest, rocky with little waves that lick against his nipples as he pulls Chekov into his lap. Chekov is so hard, and he groans and arches when his cock brushes against Sulu's underwater, throws his head back and lets Sulu lick his neck as goosebumps rise there.  
  
"Take me, take me," Chekov whispers, tipped back against Sulu's firm grip, his legs spread around Sulu's waist, everything about him surrendered. Chekov's pulse is pounding and Sulu presses his face to it, moaning against Chekov's skin. Sulu doesn't insult him by asking him again if he's ready. Chekov needs this badly, too. Still, Sulu wants to take his time, as much time as they're allowed until Kirk comes looking.  
  
"Pavel, look at me," Sulu says, and Chekov does, breathing hard as he puts his forehead against Sulu's and blinking when droplets of water roll from the tips of his curls down into his eyelashes. Sulu puts his hands on Chekov's ass and rubs upward, over his long, slender back and up to his shivering shoulders.  
  
"I love you," Sulu says. The words make him feel dumb and obvious, but Chekov's smile widens. He shuts his eyes and rubs his nose against Sulu's, humming a little.  
  
"You make me feel like nothing matters as long as I am with you," Chekov says. "This would sound better in Russian, I think." He rubs his cock against Sulu's under the water, humming a bit louder now, his head falling back again. He moans something in Russian and Sulu knows it's _I love you, too_.  
  
"You can teach me Russian, maybe, since we've got so much spare time on our hands all of a sudden," Sulu says. He licks the hollow of Chekov's throat, where his skin is so pale that it looks almost lavender in this light. "That way you could tell me dirty things in front of Kirk and he'd never know."  
  
"As if we could make him feel more excluded," Chekov says, laughing. He leans forward again and whines. "Hikaru, I'm cold, can we go out in the sun?"  
  
So Sulu takes Chekov out into the sun, into a meadow beside the lagoon, full of soft, flowering grasses, the air streaming with seedlings that float on feathery white fluff. The sun is warm on Sulu's back as he leans up over Chekov, who puts his hand over Sulu's and pushes Sulu's fingers into him more deeply, arching and whining and begging as his eyes flutter shut, _please, please_.  
  
Sulu knows he won't last long, so he spends a long time just throbbing in slow pulses inside Chekov, kissing and stroking Chekov's calmly astonished face, whispering about how good he feels, how sweet he looks, and how no one will ever fucking come close to loving him as much as Sulu does. Chekov moans softly, winces a few times but mostly just twitches around Sulu as he gets comfortable, squeezing him in quick little pulls that make them both gasp.  
  
“I want to feel you move,” Chekov whispers, and Sulu nods. He braces his elbows firmly around Chekov's ears and slides in as deep as he can before pulling back slowly. Chekov makes a noise that breaks every bone in Sulu's body into a thousand rubberized pieces, a low, gravelly _mmhm_ that cracks into an _ah!_ on the end, and it's innocent and filthy and Sulu wants to hear it a thousand times more.  
  
“Harder,” Chekov begs, rolling his hips up against Sulu's. “Like you do with your f-fingers. Hikaru, _yes_ , like that, _oh_.”  
  
Sulu comes first, so hard, feeling as if he's emptying his entire body into Chekov, everything he ever had. Chekov moans and pets him like Sulu is the one experiencing something completely new, and he is, and he needs Chekov's reassuring caresses, he does. Chekov wants Sulu to stay inside him until he comes, and neither of them blinks as Sulu fists his hand over Chekov's cock. They hold each other's gaze so that Sulu can see the exact desperate moment when Chekov knows he's going to come, his eyes widening with something like fear. Chekov cries out, arches back and spills himself all over Sulu's chest, groaning through it.  
  
“Shh, you're okay,” Sulu whispers against Chekov's neck, as if Chekov is distressed and not just limp with pleasure beneath him. Chekov turns his face against Sulu's and smiles at him blearily, his eyes still closed.  
  
“Hikaru,” he whispers.  
  
“I know,” Sulu says. They kiss for awhile, Sulu pulling out of Chekov slowly and Chekov hissing into Sulu's mouth. In the past, Sulu has loved nothing more than licking softly over his partner's tender, leaking entrance after fucking it open, but he figures that would be a little too weird for a first time, so he just leans up over Chekov and pets him as he recovers, nuzzling and kissing, both of them laughing a little because it's too good, the sunlight and the rushing sound of the waterfall, it's ridiculous.  
  
“Maybe this is actually one of those pleasure planets,” Sulu says as he smooths Chekov's wet curls. “Those places that read marooned travelers' minds and give them whatever they want.”  
  
“Then what is the _Keptin_ doing here?” Chekov asks, and Sulu laughs.  
  
“Some of the heavy lifting?” Sulu says, and then he feels bad for the joke. Chekov is grinning absently and rubbing one finger softly over Sulu's lips.  
  
“You are my pleasure planet,” Chekov says. “I am orbiting you helplessly.” He snorts and rolls his eyes at himself. “Okay, well. This definitely sounded better in my head, in Russian.”  
  
They wash up in the lagoon, as giddy as disobedient children, dunking each other in the water, diving back and forth under the waterfall and laughing until their cheeks are sore. By the time they've dried off a bit and dressed the sun is starting to go down and the air is rapidly growing cooler. Sulu knows they've lingered much longer than they should have, but, fuck, it was a special occasion. He walks back to the camp with his arm around Chekov, who is sleepy and smiling up at Sulu, tripping for the chance to kiss his jaw.  
  
“Please, please hold me tonight,” Chekov whispers as the camp comes into view, and Sulu's heart cracks in half. He nods and squeezes Chekov against him.  
  
“Every night,” Sulu says. “Every night from now on.”  
  
“Poor _Keptin_ ,” Chekov says, his face falling a bit. “There should be someone here to hold him.”  
  
Sulu moans in agreement, his arm sliding from Chekov's shoulders as they come upon Kirk, who must have washed in the stream. His hair is wet and he's bringing wood into the shelter for the fire pit.  
  
“I was starting to get worried,” he calls over his shoulder as he goes inside. Some clams are boiling in a pot over the outdoor fire, and the tools they used to make the chimney are put away. Sulu feels guilty, shivering as he walks into the shelter, where Kirk already has another fire going, the smoke escaping through the chimney.  
  
“Can you feel how cold it's getting already?” Kirk asks as Sulu goes to the trunk to get a sweater for Chekov. “I thought we could trap some heat in here and eat outside, then it'll feel really warm when we come in, you know?”  
  
He's looking at Sulu like he wants his approval for this plan, so Sulu nods enthusiastically. He feels kind of out of it in the way only epic sex can leave him. Behind him, Chekov is yawning and curling up on his mat.  
  
“Don't you want some dinner, Pavel?” Kirk asks. There's an edge of something desperate in his voice, but Chekov doesn't seem to hear it. He shrugs and hugs his pillow.  
  
“No, thank you, _Keptin_. I will have some fruit before bed. I just –” He yawns again, squeaking a little on the end of it and making Sulu want to drop down and curl around him. “I just need to rest for a moment,” Chekov mumbles into the pillow, already dozing off.  
  
So Kirk and Sulu have dinner together outside as the last of the sun sinks away. Sulu is quiet, tired, and Kirk is talking nonstop, like he came upon something caffeinated and mainlined it before Sulu and Chekov got back. Sulu doesn't eat much, tired of shellfish, and wishes he could have a hot cup of peppermint tea to get the taste of clams out of his mouth. He's thinking about collecting and drying some leaves for tea when he realizes that Kirk has stopped talking about bricklaying and is staring at him.  
  
“Sorry, what?” Sulu says. Kirk huffs a little, wounded or annoyed or both, and puts his bowl down.  
  
“Listen, I did go looking for you,” Kirk says. “You were gone for a long time and I was worried. I left as soon as I saw what was – going on.”  
  
Sulu stares at him for a minute, then his face gets hot with embarrassment that never quite concentrates into anger, though he feels like it should.  
  
“What do you want me to say?” Sulu asks.  
  
“Nothing.” Kirk looks down at his empty bowl. “Fuck. I'm happy for you.”  
  
“Yeah? Is that why you keep fucking – uselessly confronting me about it?” So maybe he is a little angry. Sulu curses himself and shakes his head. If they ever return to civilization, Kirk could have him severely punished for talking to him this way, extenuating circumstances or not. He's just staring at Sulu, though, looking lost.  
  
“I'm not confronting you,” Kirk says. “I just don't want to be expected to act like I don't – notice.”  
  
“Well!” Sulu scoffs and throws out his hands, not really sure what to say next. “Then why don't you – I mean, what's the alternative, sir? You want me to come back here and give you a fucking report about what I did with him?”  
  
Kirk glares at him. “Fuck you,” he mutters. “I didn't want to pretend like I didn't see. It felt creepy.”  
  
“Yeah, well, thanks for fucking tarnishing the whole memory for me – I'm so glad you feel less creepy.”  
  
“You're such a selfish shit,” Kirk says. Sulu is perturbed by his calmness. “At least Pavel has the excuse of being a goddamn teenager.”  
  
“Why exactly are you trying to pick a fight with me, Captain?” Sulu asks. He should storm into the shelter, but he thinks he understands, maybe, why Kirk is needling him like this. It feels good to fight, to have some of the tension out in the open, especially if they don't need to involve Chekov, if they can take it out on each other and continue to be allied in their need to protect him.  
  
“It's not a fight,” Kirk says, putting his bowl down. “Fucking forget it. Just don't disappear for two hours and expect me not to look for you, alright? If you want to drag him off somewhere and fuck him, or if you want me to get lost, just treat me with a little fucking respect and tell me to my face.”  
  
“Yeah? Why don't you treat him with some goddamn respect and not just assume he's okay with his captain knowing about it every time he's about to get fucked?”  
  
The words bite roughly out of Sulu, and his heart pounds as Kirk stares at him with quiet disbelief. Sulu isn't sure why, but that was the wrong thing to say. He feels weirdly overstimulated all of a sudden, wide awake. Cheeks burning, he curses and heads for the shelter, leaving Kirk to deal with putting out the fire. It's warm inside the shelter, like Kirk promised it would be, the fire in the pit smoldering. Sulu puts another small log on it, replaces the grate and pushes his mat firmly against Chekov's before climbing under the pile of blankets with him and pulling Chekov against his chest. Chekov moans a little in his sleep and takes hold of Sulu's arm, tugging Sulu against him more snugly. Sulu feels like he should apologize for something. He lies awake and listens for the sounds of Kirk cleaning up the camp. He doesn't like the thought of Kirk seeing Chekov vulnerable and naked and spread out beneath Sulu, but then again. Maybe he knew Kirk would come looking. Maybe Chekov did, too, or maybe he's not as fucked up as Sulu. Of course he's not. Sulu hides his face against the back of Chekov's neck. He's so warm, and Sulu is so lucky that Chekov is even willing to let Sulu hold him. He doesn't know why he should feel like he's got something to prove, like he wants Kirk to bear witness, to know exactly what he's missing.  
  
But no, that's not it. It's nowhere near as simple as that.  
  
*  
  
The replicator's battery finally dies around the time it really starts to get cold. Nothing much is said about it, and the dead replicator still holds its usual place inside the shelter, as if it might come back to life spontaneously if it's just treated with enough quiet respect. For the most part, they've gotten everything they needed from it in the five months that it operated, which was longer than they should have even dared to hope for. Still, its death seems to signify something, a new epoch on the lonely landscape of Chekuluirk.  
  
The mapping expeditions are done for until the weather improves, most of the planet covered with a layer of thin frost that is rapidly killing the remaining vegetation in the areas surrounding the camp. Sulu spends most of his time fishing and gathering firewood with Kirk, while Chekov mans the camp and works on the busted communicator. On some days, they don't talk at all, communicating wordlessly, everything they might chat about seeming useless, irrelevant. Sulu and Chekov can tell each other lots of things without speaking: reassurance is a soft glance between them, encouragement is a swift kiss on the back of the head, longing is a dart of Chekov's tongue between his lips and Sulu's deep, answering sigh. Their meadows are frozen over, and the days when Kirk ventures out alone are few and far between, their desperate fucks too frantic, never lasting long enough.  
  
Kirk and Sulu can communicate without words, too. Kirk taunts Sulu with knowing glances just before slipping to take a 'walk on the beach,' both of them knowing why he's going and exactly what will happen in the precious minutes before he returns. It's too cold out there for Kirk to linger for long, but Sulu still feels like Kirk is choosing to torture them by only staying away for ten, fifteen minutes at a time. Sulu should be glad he leaves at all; he doesn't have to, and it's a mercy that Chekov will quietly thank Kirk for when he returns, preparing tea for him with the leaves Sulu has gathered and offering him blankets. Sulu hates this display, but, like everything in this godforsaken place, it has a sort of double-edge, a shadowy reverse side that Sulu also loves. He likes the thought of his come leaking out of Chekov as Chekov falls all over himself to take care of Kirk. He likes that Kirk must recognize the thick smell of sex in the shelter when he comes back, sometimes even imagines that Kirk doesn't walk on the beach, that he just stands outside and listens to Chekov moan Sulu's name as he's fucked. Sulu has come pretty hard to this thought a couple of times, always feeling guilty afterward when Chekov pets and kisses him.  
  
And then there are some days when the three of them talk constantly. Kirk decides to ferment some of the surviving winter fruit and Chekov and Sulu are all in favor. They all stay up late into the night making plans and discussing brew strategies, relating everything they know about wine-making and the chemistry of liquor, and this devolves into regaling each other with their favorite memories of being wasted. It's cold, but the fire is roaring in the pit, Chekov is shaking with laughter in Sulu's arms, under the blankets, and Kirk looks so strangely sweet with his own blankets pulled up to his chin as he grins and tells Sulu and Chekov stories about Bones getting completely toasted at the Academy and ranting for hours about his ex-wife.  
  
On other occasions they have much graver conversations. One night, they discuss what will happen if they are never rescued. They talk about their families, who might already think they're dead, and their friends on the _Enterprise_ , the dreams they had for their futures that might already be long past possible. At first they all try to hide the fact that they're getting emotional, then Chekov starts to sniffle and Sulu pulls him into his arms, his own eyes wet as he presses his face into Chekov's curls. He looks over at Kirk and sees him wiping at his cheeks, trying to be discreet.  
  
"Captain," Sulu says softly, hugging Chekov to him. "C'mere."  
  
"I'm alright." Kirk laughs at the shake in his voice. "It's just – I'm not even – it's just that if other people start to break down, I, uh. I don't know, I just feel like I failed you both and I –"  
  
" _Keptin_." Chekov lifts his head from Sulu's chest with a loud sniffle and turns to Kirk. "Please, no, you did nothing wrong."  
  
"Fuck, sorry." Kirk laughs again, rubbing his hand over his face.  
  
"It's okay," Sulu says. "It's been almost six fucking months, Kirk, and it's –" Sulu wipes at the corner of his eye with his palm. "I catch myself wondering if my parents have had a funeral for me yet."  
  
"I'm just, I'm all my Mom has," Kirk says, his voice deteriorating as he speaks. "My brother – and my dad – fuck, I don't want to her to put another grave stone up next to theirs and kneel there in front of them like she's got nothing left."  
  
" _Keptin_ ," Chekov says in a pained little whisper, still sniffling. He looks back to Sulu, who nods. He feels like an asshole for behaving as if Chekov needs his permission, and for being very darkly and secretly glad that Chekov silently asked for it. Sulu watches as Chekov crawls from the blankets and walks across the shelter to kneel on the floor beside Kirk's mat and lean down to hug Kirk's shoulders.  
  
"No – I'm alright," Kirk says, sucking in a deep breath. "I'm alright, I just. I thought I'd changed but that's a fucking joke. All I do is disappoint everybody –"  
  
"No, no, you do not do this at all," Chekov says, speaking softly and leaning down close to Kirk's ear. Sulu would be jealous but he can't afford another emotion, his chest torn up with thoughts of his mother and his sisters learning of his disappearance, his father being strong for everyone throughout the memorial service and then closing himself in his study to cry into his hands.  
  
"Pavel, don't be crazy, go get under the blankets," Kirk says. The air in the shelter is warmed by the fire pit but still frigid, and Chekov is shivering as he clings to Kirk, rubbing Kirk's back.  
  
"If he comes back over here, you do, too," Sulu says, swallowing the last of his tears. His heart is pounding as Chekov and Kirk both look up at him with surprise. "C'mon, Captain," Sulu says. "It's not like we can't hear your teeth chattering over there every fucking night."  
  
"I --" Kirk is at a loss, the gravity gone from his voice, replaced with bare shock. "I haven't been making the fires strong enough."  
  
"Pavel," Sulu says, locking eyes with Chekov. "Bring him over here. The blankets, too. This is ridiculous." He tries to make his voice firm, decisive. He really has no idea what he's doing. What he's suggesting.  
  
Chekov does as Sulu asked, gently guiding Kirk up from his lonely mat and gathering the blankets as Kirk stumbles across the shelter, his eyes wet and his face pinched as he tries not to lose his composure completely. Sulu lifts up the blankets and holds his arms out for Kirk, exhaling with relief as Kirk hides against his chest, because he's wanted this so much, to stop bullshitting and just do what they've all been thinking about. Chekov must have wanted it, too, because he wastes no time throwing the blankets from Kirk's mat over Sulu and Kirk and squirming beneath them, curling around Kirk's back, the cold evaporating as the three of them huddle together, Sulu reaching over Kirk to pull Chekov in closer.  
  
"It's alright," Sulu whispers. He kisses Kirk's forehead, looking up at Chekov to make sure this is okay. Chekov smiles at him tearfully and kisses Kirk's ear, hugs his shoulder.  
  
"Jesus," Kirk cries, his tears hot on Sulu's neck. "Jesus, fuck, look at me." He's pawing at Sulu's side as if he wants him closer, but Sulu can't get any closer, so he just rubs a hand through Kirk's hair and sighs against his forehead.  
  
"You belong over here with us," Sulu whispers, suddenly sure about this. "You're not alone."  
  
"Yes, _Keptin_ ," Chekov whispers, nuzzling at Kirk's neck and kissing him softly behind his ear. "We don't want you to be cold anymore." Chekov looks up at Sulu, over Kirk's shoulder, tears pouring out of his green eyes. He smiles shakily, and for a moment Sulu thinks he's fucked everything up, but then Chekov moans and curls tightly around Kirk, pressing his eyes shut, and Sulu knows he's done the right thing. It's been killing them, the separation, the boundaries, the anxiety. Chekov still belongs to Sulu, and Sulu will never belong to anyone but Chekov, but Kirk needs more than friendly words and smiles. He needs – fuck. He needs to be held. Sulu moans with regret for not having done this sooner, pressing his face to Kirk's forehead as Kirk's shaking and crying tapers off. Kirk's hand is clawed around the back of Sulu's sweater, one of his legs pushed through Sulu's. He sucks in a deep, wet breath and then sighs, his breath hot on Sulu's neck.  
  
"Thank you," Kirk whispers very softly. "I'm sorry – sorry I'm so fucking weak, but –"  
  
"You are not weak, _Keptin_ ," Chekov whispers, stroking Kirk's cheek and rubbing it dry with soft fingertips. "You have been so strong for us. Now let us take care of you." He seals this sentiment with a kiss, chaste and sweet against Kirk's neck. Kirk reaches back to rub his hand over Chekov's ear, and Sulu pulls the blankets up a bit more, tucking them in tightly around the back of Chekov's head. He can feel Kirk's heart pounding against his chest, and he's amazed at how different it is from the feeling of Chekov's little hamster heart beating fast. He reaches over to close his hand around the back of Chekov's neck, rubbing his thumb behind Chekov's ear until Chekov moans softly.  
  
"So this is what it feels like," Kirk whispers when the air seems to go still around the three of them.  
  
Sulu is so impressed with him for being brave enough to admit that he's wondered.


	3. Chapter 3

Sulu is not surprised that things escalate, he's just surprised by how quickly it happens. He blames the weather, the cold that continues to intensify, and the long nights, the short days. They do whatever work they can while they have sunlight, gathering food and firewood in efficient, shivering silence, and they eat around the fire pit inside the shelter, out of the harsh winds that have begun blowing down from the mountains north of the valley since the frost came. They avoid each other's eyes and eat quickly, afraid to see or acknowledge how much all of them want to be under the blankets together, pushing cold hands up under each other's shirts and laughing nervously, cursing at the lingering sting of the air outside the bed as it slowly dissipates in favor of tangled limbs and hot breath, desperate clinging.  
  
They take turns being in the middle, and no one ever forgets whose turn it is. This is the one part of their daily routine that changes, the one thing to look forward to, though it's not so bad to not be in the middle, either, still nice and warm with the heat of three bodies and a mound of fifteen blankets, ten towels and most of the clothes from the trunk piled over them. Still, being in the middle is an entirely different experience, one that makes Sulu shake with anticipation when it's his turn. He usually rolls onto his side, Chekov in his arms and Kirk wrapped around his back. Chekov is skinny, and skinner than ever here with their limited food supply, but Kirk still has a good thirty pounds of muscle on Sulu, and he feels so big against Sulu's back, sturdy and somehow warmer than Sulu and Chekov put together. Kirk's breath is like sunlight on the back of Sulu's neck, and Sulu always gets goosebumps at that first warm push. It feels so good to be held and to hold Chekov at the same time. The best of both worlds.  
  
At first, there's lots of joking, Kirk saying _Well this is cozy_ and Sulu and Chekov laughing anxiously. Then Sulu will kiss the bridge of Chekov's nose, and Kirk will rub his stubble against the point of Sulu's jaw, his hand sneaking down under Sulu's layers to find the warm skin on Sulu's side. Sulu will shudder and push back against Kirk, pulling Chekov with him. They almost never fall asleep right away, even if they've spent the whole day chopping wood for the fire pit. Sulu's heart always pounds for at least an hour after they've first retired to bed, the wind beating against the walls of the shelter, howling through the trees that overlook the valley. For awhile Sulu will feel Chekov's pulse pumping wildly and Kirk's heart beating fast against his back, both of them breathing a bit shallowly, waiting to sink into the calm that comes when their heartbeats seem to synchronize under the blankets.  
  
They always shift around as they sleep, getting comfortable. When Sulu is in the middle he usually wakes up on his stomach, Kirk heavy on his back and Chekov curled up around his shoulder, clinging. The bad part about being in the middle is that this person also has the responsibility of getting up and stoking the fire if the shelter begins to grow too cold. Waking up when this happens is never a problem; it's impossible to sleep with that kind of chill, and when Sulu comes back to the bed after taking his turn to reignite the fire Chekov and Kirk will both be wide awake, shivering and reaching for him, wrapping tightly around him as he squirms back into the blankets until they're pulled up over his ear.  
  
Boredom is almost as difficult to deal with as the cold. They play cards, lying on their stomachs under the blankets, shoulder to shoulder as they deal, and sometimes they play hangman in Chekov's notebook, pressing the pencil lightly to the paper and erasing the letters after they're done so they can play again over the same space. Conserving resources is an obsession. Sulu spends thirty minutes one day wandering the weedy dunes along the beach in search of something gooey that he'll be able to use for lube when he runs out of itch cream, which is something that he's not too terribly worried about at the moment, considering that he only gets to have sex with Chekov once a week or so, when Kirk charitably finds some excuse to go off alone.  
  
The afternoons are gray and motionless, the sun hidden behind a pillowy layer of thick clouds. One day, Kirk and Sulu are stacking firewood when a storm starts up out over the ocean, thunder rumbling under black clouds. Kirk and Sulu stare at it, mesmerized, and Sulu goes into the shelter to call Chekov out to see it, finally something other than the same drab sky they've lived under for almost a month, but when he goes inside Chekov is fast asleep under the blankets, curled up, and Sulu doesn't want to wake him. He goes back to the door and sees Kirk walking toward the beach.  
  
"Hey!" Sulu shouts. "What are you doing?"  
  
"I'm just gonna walk down to the water," Kirk calls back.  
  
"Wait, up, I'll come with you." Sulu has always liked storms, but they make him a little nervous now that he's living a wooden shack. Still, it's a beautiful change of scenery, the dramatic black of the clouds swelling out over the ocean, flickering with lightening like a galaxy being born.  
  
"Maybe you shouldn't," Kirk says when Sulu jogs down to meet him. Kirk has his hands in the pockets of his coat, his scarf wrapped around his chin inside the coat's hood. He grins. "You know," he says, nodding to the shelter. "Take some time alone."  
  
Sulu looks away, embarrassed. It has been awhile, over a week now, the cold so bad and the days so drowsy with clouds that the three of them have barely moved from the bed except to eat and boil water to wash with. Kirk was in the middle last night, and Sulu woke up with his face pressed to Kirk's chest, a monstrous boner jammed against Kirk's thigh. Kirk gave him an understanding smile and did him the mercy of not joking about it, and now he's doing Sulu this mercy, too, but the wind is blowing so hard and Sulu doesn't like the thought of Kirk alone out here in the storm.  
  
"We've got a good fifteen minutes before that storm hits land," Kirk says, shouting over the wind as it picks up. He winks. "That enough time for you to take care of business?"  
  
"Yeah, Captain," Sulu mutters, and Kirk gives him an _atta boy_ slap on the shoulder. Sulu hurries back to the shelter, his cock already twitching to life at the thought of waking Chekov with hot kisses and fucking him gently while he's still mostly asleep, warm from the blankets.  
  
"Pavel," he whispers as he shuts the shelter's door. Chekov doesn't stir, so Sulu steps out of his boots and crawls into the bed beside him, wrapping around Chekov's back and licking Chekov's earlobe into his mouth. Chekov feels feverish with warmth compared to Sulu, and he whines and jerks when Sulu slips a cold hand up under his sweater.  
  
"Hey," Sulu whispers. "Kirk's gone, he went for a walk." He rubs his hand over Chekov's trembling stomach until it's warmer, then unbuttons Chekov's trousers and reaches into Chekov's boxer shorts.  
  
"Hikaru," Chekov moans, his irritable sleepiness leaving him as Sulu strokes his cock slowly. Chekov sighs, his legs falling open, hips already pumping. Sulu's eyes burn as he marvels at how quickly Chekov gets hard for him, how much he still needs this. Sometimes they sneak touches if Kirk is sleeping deeply against Sulu's back, but it just leaves them frustrated and hard.  
  
"Is that thunder?" Chekov asks as Sulu unzips and mounts him, turning Chekov onto his stomach so that he won't have to take his pants off all the way. Sulu wishes he could have Chekov's legs locked tightly around his back, or Chekov's skinny ankles propped on his shoulders, but this is easier, faster. He tells himself that it will be summer again someday, that Kirk will go for longer walks. He's stopped telling himself that help will arrive soon and carry them back to a world where he had a room with temperature controls and all the lube he could replicate.  
  
"There's a storm coming," Sulu says, panting with panicked hurry more than arousal as he sinks his fingers into Chekov, stretching him with a minimal amount of itch cream, to conserve more for his cock. Chekov groans and tries to spread himself open wider, whimpering with frustration when his pants cuff him. Grunting, Sulu throws caution to the wind and rips Chekov's trousers and underwear off of him entirely, helping Chekov to kick them away under the blankets. Chekov moans with gratitude as Sulu turns him onto his back.  
  
"Now, now," Chekov whispers, barely prepared, but Sulu can't wait any longer, either. He nods and coats his cock with the cream, lifts Chekov's knees until his ass is raised off the sleeping mat and lines himself up, his eyes locked on Chekov's, which are lidded and lust-blown and, God, he's fucking beautiful when he's flushed and waiting for Sulu like this, open, wet-mouthed, pushing a hand up under his shirt to rub his nipples.  
  
"Fuck," Sulu whispers, a full-body shudder moving through him. He begins to push into Chekov and Chekov cries out hoarsely, nodding, the hand that's not up under his shirt fisting the blankets. Sulu is on the verge of tears, and he swallows them down. He just feels like he hasn't seen Chekov in a long time. It's not the same with Kirk always around.  
  
"Hikaru," Chekov moans, throwing his head back when Sulu is deep inside him. Thunder booms outside, sounding much closer than ten minutes off. Sulu's heart is hammering. He wants to fuck Chekov so hard, and to stay here like this forever, just watching Chekov go crazy for Sulu's cock, open around it and shaking in Sulu's arms, already trying to roll his hips but too tired or out of practice to really manage anything more than adorable squirming.  
  
"Love you," Sulu says, reaching down to take hold of Chekov's cock and rubbing his thumb all over the wet tip. Chekov cries out wordlessly, sounding broken, and he's got tears in the corners of his eyes, too.  
  
"Fuck me, fuck me," Chekov whispers, bucking in Sulu's grip. "Fuck your boy, Hikaru, oh, he's missed you."  
  
Sulu laughs a little crazily and does as Chekov asked, pumping into him in short, hard thrusts, biting his lip and throwing his head back, the blankets sliding down off of him, but it doesn't matter, the storm that is gathering outside has warmed the air, and the thunder feels like it's rumbling in Sulu's chest as he fucks Chekov harder and harder. When the hail starts pelting the roof Sulu hardly notices, because Chekov is hot and tight and clawing at himself in ectascy as Sulu fucks him, and Sulu doesn't hear the door open, doesn't want to believe the sound of Kirk gasping and crashing to the floor of the shelter behind them.  
  
"Fuck!' Kirk shouts, and Sulu doesn't know if he's cursing at the hail or the scene he's stumbled in on. Sulu falls down over Chekov protectively, pulling the blankets up around them, and the movement is so panicked and sudden that it shoves him deep and hard into Chekov, who screams and arches as if he wants it even deeper, harder, tears pouring from the corners of his eyes and his head shaking back and forth on the pillow like the force of his disappointment can send Kirk away.  
  
"Jesus, do you hear that?" Kirk asks as baseball-sized hail stones hammer the shelter. Sulu wraps more tightly around Chekov, both of them panting and disoriented. Sulu is throbbing inside Chekov, and when he sighs with resignation and starts to pull out, Chekov opens his wet eyes and grabs Sulu's shoulders, holding him in place.  
  
" _Nyet_ ," he says. "Please, please." He pinches his eyes shut and curses in Russian. "Don't stop, I don't care, don't stop, I need it." Chekov is sobbing, and he seems vaguely out of his mind. Sulu stares down at him, close to coming but nowhere near willing to fuck Chekov while Kirk watches. Sulu glances at Kirk, who looks away quickly when Sulu meets his eyes. Kirk is out of breath, wet and shivering. He needs to be under the blankets. The fire in the pit is burning low, its heat almost gone.  
  
"Please, Hikaru!" Chekov sounds so angry, crying the words out, his grip on Sulu's forearms painful. "Please, please, I'm so lonely, it hurts without you, don't stop."  
  
"Pavel." Sulu's heart is pounding. He would have pulled out of Chekov already, but Chekov is crying so hard, and this is not just about sex. Sometimes, late at night, Kirk licks Sulu's jaw very softly, and Sulu pretends not to notice, then shifts back against him, turns his cheek toward Kirk just a bit, and sighs soft and low when Kirk licks him again. He's almost sure that Chekov hasn't noticed, not consciously, but maybe he feels the betrayal in his sleep, cold against his skin.  
  
"I don't care if he sees," Chekov sobs. The hail is still coming down hard, mixed with splashes of heavy rain. Sulu looks over at Kirk, who has turned away, staring at his hands and looking like a kid who knows he's about to be punished. Chekov grabs Sulu's face and pulls it down to his roughly.  
  
"Doesn't matter," Chekov bites out, the words trembling. "You _fuck me_ , Hikaru." Chekov orders, his eyes narrowed. "Finish what you started."  
  
Sulu didn't mean to moan like that, but it's too late to take it back now. He pushes down into Chekov, his back set on fire with a flush. He can't remember what it was like to be cold.  
  
Chekov shuts his eyes and more tears spill out. He tips his chin up a bit and lets out a shaky breath as Sulu continues to fuck him in shallow, nervous thrusts. Sulu wants to look at Kirk to make sure that this is okay, but Chekov's hands are firm on Sulu's cheeks, holding him still, and of course it's not okay.  
  
Sulu is softening inside Chekov, too freaked out by this to get off, but Chekov is hurting, he needs this. Sulu is inside Chekov in every way that one person can be inside another, and he knows what Chekov needs, can read him like unrolled data. Sulu tries to stop thinking of Kirk, but he can't, so he shuts his eyes, jams his face against Chekov's cheek and uses it. He pretends that Kirk isn't turned away, ashamed and awkward, but that he's watching, close, taking his dick out of his pants as he licks his lips, pulling the blankets back so he can see Sulu's cock slipping out of Chekov and then pushing back in, hard, slick, red. It works, Sulu's cock pounding with pressure again as he growls and fucks Chekov harder, Chekov's heels digging into his back, nails piercing the skin on Sulu's shoulders. Sulu pinches his eyes shut even tighter, imagining Kirk's hand stroking down over his back while he fucks Chekov, and the praise he would give, _Yeah, that's good, Lieutenant, fuck my little Ensign hard, yeah, he likes that, fuck him deeper, Hikaru, get him open wide for your dick, oh, shit yeah, fuck his hot little hole_.  
  
Sulu comes with a scream and Chekov follows, his come splashing Sulu's chest, as if this was what Chekov wanted, what he was waiting for: Sulu losing control in front of their captain, showing him that nothing matters more than giving Chekov what he wants. Sulu hides his face against Chekov's neck and moans, his pleasure spiraling away and down into shame, confusion, then pure fear. The storm is beating against the shelter and Sulu is afraid to move, not wanting to look at Kirk or at Chekov. He lifts his head and stares down at Chekov, who is crying hard, his hands over his face as he shakes his head back and forth.  
  
"Shh, Pavel." Sulu pulls out and dares a look at Kirk, who is leaning against the opposite wall, his elbows resting on it and his head pressed between them.  
  
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Chekov wails, rolling away from Sulu and hiding his face in a pillow, looking so small that Sulu is afraid the power of his sobs will break his bones.  
  
"It's okay," Sulu whispers, though it's not, oh, God, nowhere near. He pulls the blankets up and holds Chekov against his chest, curling around him as he cries. Chekov is still chanting _I'm sorry, I'm sorry_ , not even stopping to breathe. Sulu concentrates on soothing him, not ready to even think about dealing with anything else. He turns when he hears Kirk messing with the fire pit and watches him make the fire stronger. Kirk is shaking hard now, either from the shock of what just happened or the cold. He has a bump rising on his forehead, red and angry-looking, probably from the strike of a hail stone. Sulu wonders if Kirk thought he could bear it for a moment, wait out the storm until the moans inside the shelter died off, and if it was the hard blow to the head that finally sent him inside.  
  
"Kirk," Sulu says, no idea how to continue.  
  
"It's okay," Kirk says quickly, not the faintest trace of emotion in his voice. "Hey – it's okay." He looks up at Sulu and Sulu feels wrecked. Those eyes. Sulu never wanted to see vulnerability in them.  
  
"Tell Pavel it's okay," Kirk says, because Chekov is still sobbing loud enough to rival the storm. "Tell him I understand."  
  
"Just – come here," Sulu says sharply. "You're freezing."  
  
Kirk laughs as if that's impossible. Chekov wails. Sulu wishes they would both be quiet, or calm down, or just disappear until he can think straight. He kisses Chekov's raw, wet cheeks, and then turns back to Kirk, begging with his eyes, not even sure what he's asking for.  
  
"Pavel, it's okay," Kirk says. He kneels beside the bed, the fire roaring behind him and making his blond hair look golden. Chekov has his arm curled over his face as if he never wants to look at Kirk or Sulu again.  
  
"It's been hard for all of us," Kirk says, his voice gentle enough to give Sulu goosebumps. "Pavel, listen. I get it. It's okay. It's my fault, even. Don't be upset, please."  
  
Chekov just cries and hides, shaking his head. Sulu looks back over his shoulder at Kirk, trying to communicate his gratitude. He wants -- he doesn't know what he wants. He wants Kirk to stop shivering, Chekov to stop crying, the rain outside to stop leaking in through the clumsy crevasses of the shelter.  
  
"Come here," Sulu says to Kirk. It seems like some divide has been introduced, as if Kirk should go back to sleeping on the other side of the shelter, but it's not fair, because Kirk hasn't done anything, he was only trying to give them a moment alone together, his generosity interrupted by a hail storm. Sulu can't be mad at Chekov, either. He just wanted to have Sulu to himself for five minutes, and he almost had it, came too close to let it go.  
  
Kirk takes off his wet clothes and hangs them over the fire. Chekov's has cried himself out by the time Kirk climbs under the blankets in fresh clothes, but he's certainly not sleeping, and goes tense in Sulu's arms as Kirk's back curves against Sulu's. They lie like that for a long time, not pretending to sleep, just listening to the storm, Kirk turned away from them but too cold not to press up against Sulu. Sulu's stomach is growling, but he doesn't feel like eating. He kisses Chekov's neck absently, needing the taste of him, though it seems different now.  
  
It's Chekov who solves and maybe ruins everything, which is the last thing any of them expected. Chekov rolls over to sniffle at Sulu in the firelight. He touches Sulu's face like Sulu is just a photograph of someone he lost.  
  
"This is the only way," Chekov whispers. He says something in Russian then, and Sulu recognizes _I love you_ mixed in with the words he doesn't know. Chekov kisses Sulu's forehead as if he's saying goodbye to him at a space port, then climbs over him and slides into Kirk's arms. Kirk receives him there with a little grunt of surprise, and turns to look at Sulu, who watches in stunned silence as Chekov kisses Kirk's neck.  
  
"Check -- Pavel --" Kirk pushes at Chekov a little in confusion, still frowning at Sulu like he expects him to explain. Chekov moans in protest at Kirk's resistance, his leg sliding across Kirk's midsection under the blankets as he rolls Kirk onto his back.  
  
" _Keptin_ , please," Chekov whispers. He takes Kirk's chin and turns Kirk's face to his. Sulu stares, motionless as Chekov kisses Kirk deeply. He should be jealous, at least heartbroken, but he just feels guilty. Like Chekov is doing this for him. Kirk turns to Sulu, his mouth hanging open, wet from Chekov's kiss. He's waiting for Sulu to tell him to stop. Maybe Chekov is, too. Sulu can't remember how his voice works. He watches Chekov moan and reclaim Kirk's mouth. This time, Kirk kisses Chekov back, his arm wrapping around Chekov's shoulders. Chekov looks so tiny against Kirk's chest, his skin pallid and his curls matted. He looks like a stranger. Sulu knows what he has to do, and that it's the worst thing for all of them, but the alternative is just as bad. He leans down to fight Kirk's lips away from Chekov. Sulu kisses Kirk hard, groaning, leaning onto him and tasting Chekov on Kirk's mouth as Kirk licks through Sulu's lips hungrily.  
  
Sulu mirrors Chekov's every movement, following along as if he has no choice. When Chekov licks and bites at one side of Kirk's neck, Sulu works on the other, trying not to moan and hump Kirk's side at the taste of his skin, because Sulu has been drowning in the smell of it for months now and he's wanted to feel it on his tongue more than once. Under the blankets, Chekov works his hand into Kirk's pants and gropes him through his underwear, so Sulu does, too, meeting Chekov's eyes over Kirk's heaving chest as Kirk groans and bucks up against their squeezing fingers and rubbing palms.  
  
"Please, guys," Kirk says, his head lolling on the pillow like he doesn't know where to look, though his eyes are shut tightly. "You -- _ah_ , you don't have to."  
  
"Yes, _Keptin_ , we do," Chekov says. He licks Kirk's ear. "It is only way."  
  
"No," Kirk says. He wrenches his eyes open and stares up at Sulu, pleading, for what Sulu can't tell. Sulu pushes his fingers through the slit of Kirk's boxer shorts and strokes his hot, hard cock. Kirk actually whimpers, arching up into Sulu's touch.  
  
"Hikaru," he moans, and Sulu kisses him to shut him up, praying that Kirk won't ever say his name like that again, not in front of Chekov, and never, ever when Chekov is not around.  
  
Chekov pushes Kirk's boxers down impatiently and grabs Kirk's cock like he's never been afraid of anything, his face almost impassive as he watches Kirk moan and writhe. Sulu leans over Kirk to kiss Chekov, and for a moment it seems like a very bad idea, because Chekov looks at him with nothing but dull surprise, but then Sulu curls his hand around Chekov's on Kirk's dick, and he kisses Chekov hard while Kirk curses and comes all over their hands. Sulu gives Chekov's open, panting mouth a final lick before he pulls back, staring into Chekov's eyes and waiting for a smile or something. Chekov bumps his forehead against Sulu's and groans tiredly, which is good enough, Sulu supposes. They both turn to Kirk, who looks a lot like he did after Spock tried to strangle him on the bridge.  
  
"I --" Kirk tries to say, looking back and forth between the two of them, his eyes unfocused. "I --"  
  
"Shh," Sulu says, rubbing Kirk's cheek with the back of one finger. Chekov puts his head on Kirk's shoulder and sighs, his arm sliding across Kirk's chest. Kirk wraps his arm around Chekov's back and pulls Sulu against his other shoulder. Sulu drops there gratefully, staring at Chekov over the empty plain of Kirk's chest. Chekov rubs his face against Kirk's sweater sleepily and shuts his eyes, reaching over to cup Sulu's cheek in his hand.  
  
"Is the only way," Chekov says, mumbling. Sulu looks up at Kirk, who seems shattered, but he's holding Sulu and Chekov to him tightly, his hand sneaking up under Sulu's shirt. Sulu hides his face against Kirk's neck and sighs. Kirk still smells a little like a hail storm, and Sulu shivers as Kirk strokes his back, imagining Kirk out there watching the storm come, thinking he could hold out a little longer, wanting to be strong enough. Chekov is right. They're all going to be lonely if they don't do it this way, not just Kirk. Sulu just wishes he didn't have to feel like he was sacrificing something to this. Chekov, specifically. But it was his idea. Sulu reaches up and takes Chekov's hand, holding it inside his, over Kirk's heartbeat. He feels like somebody should say something, but then they all just fall asleep.  
  
In the middle of the night, Chekov whines and crawls over Kirk, huddling back into Sulu's arms. Sulu is delirious with the need for forgetful sleep, and he doesn't let his thoughts settle, just rolls away from Kirk and holds Chekov tightly. Kirk turns along with them, locking himself around Sulu with a sigh. It's still raining outside, and the fire is still burning. Sulu wills any other cognizance away.  
  
He wakes in what might be morning, the sky outside dark and the rain persisting. The fire is close to going out, so Sulu unwinds himself from Chekov and reaches over Kirk, who has flopped onto his back to snore. They keep the wood pile close enough to the bed so that they don't have to get up to toss another log on during the night, but Sulu still has to fumble a bit to reach it from the middle of the bed. He gets hold of a couple of big, splintery pieces and tosses them on the fire, then grabs for the poker, leaning up on his elbow to jab at the logs until the flames rise. He sets the poker aside and looks down at Kirk, who has stopped snoring. Sulu is still stretched over him, Kirk blinking up at him hopefully. Sulu should just roll over and go back to sleep, because he's already done enough for Kirk for one night, but then he sees the nasty bruise that has gone deeply purple on Kirk's forehead.  
  
"Jesus," Sulu whispers, touching its edges with soft fingertips. Kirk winces just a little, and Sulu draws his hand gently down over Kirk's cheekbone, the stubble on his cheek, the line of his jaw. Sulu still isn't fully awake, his heart beating fast but his brain full of useless fuzz. Kirk looks like he thinks he's dreaming.  
  
"Hikaru," Kirk whispers, really just mouthing Sulu's name, but Sulu hears it clearly, and all the questions and apologies lodged inside it. Sulu takes a deep breath and leans down just a little, ghosting his lips over Kirk's. He's going to say something smart-assed, maybe, or offer some pithy comment about how they've swum too far from the shore, how they'll never get back, but then he just kisses Kirk, licking him softly with just the tip of his tongue. Kirk pushes the sweetest little sigh up into Sulu's mouth, and for a moment Sulu can't believe he ever thought Chekov was the one who needed him.  
  
But he does, the memory striking Sulu like a ball of ice pitched out a storm cloud, and Sulu pulls back. He must be giving Kirk the saddest look that Kirk has ever seen, because Kirk shakes his head as if to say _It's okay, hey, do whatever you want_. Sulu rolls over and curls around Chekov with every ounce of his strength. His stomach is empty and gurgling uncomfortably, trying to wake him. Kirk does Sulu the mercy of not rolling onto him. Chekov may or may not be asleep. Sulu can't decide which would be worse.  
  
*  
  
The long winter nights aren't exactly easier after that, but they are at least more interesting. Kirk breaks out his first batch of fermented berries, and though it tastes horrible, they all sip at it until they convince themselves that they're drunk, gagging and laughing after every drink from the jug, their lips dark red with wine that might poison them for all they know. Instead it just makes them feel like they've earned a reprieve from their concerns about what they're doing, and they touch each other with carefree kindness under the blankets, smiling against each other's lips before bringing come-drenched fingers up to be licked clean.  
  
That's the first night when Kirk dares to sneak his hand from the small of Sulu's back down between the crack of his ass, and Sulu grunts to remind him that's off limits, but it just comes out sounding a moaning entreaty for more. Chekov is distracted, being fucked, lying on his back with his legs locked around Sulu, crushing the air from him. Sulu's hole tingles in a not entirely unpleasant way when Kirk circles it with a wet finger, and Sulu realizes that he's lubed it with the syrupy wine, which for some reason makes Sulu growl with appreciation and push back against Kirk's finger as it slides into him. He wants Kirk like this, not noble and pining. It will be easier for everyone if Kirk plays the bully, coaxing Sulu open a little at a time until finally he makes Chekov watch as he fucks Sulu hard.  
  
The days are actually quite a lot easier once they've started breaking down the boundaries between each other. They stick together all the time, no reason to take breaks for the purposes of privacy, and in fact all a bit nervous about being out of each other's sight, as if the fragile understanding between the three of them will disappear as soon as they separate. They go for hikes together, all the way to the base of the mountains that overlook the valley, tromping through snow and following tracks and watching for birds. Chekov seems happy when they're all out together like this, sometimes letting Kirk carry him on his back, and when Chekov is happy, Sulu and Kirk are, too. Chekov is their albatross in this place; that was clear from the moment they both rushed to the wrecked shuttle, afraid that he was dead. As long as Chekov is soaring high, smiling with his cheeks red from the cold, they'll be okay.  
  
"What if we found an indigenous population?" Chekov asks one day when they've stopped to eat the dried potato-banana chips they brought along on their hike. They're a couple miles up one of the closest mountains, the farthest they'll dare to go in the brief sunlight and the punishing cold.  
  
"I think we would have found an indigenous population by now," Kirk says. They've been on Chekuluirk -- a name they never use anymore, their sense of whimsy about this place long gone -- for seven months.  
  
"Not if they lived underground," Sulu says. He takes the binoculars from Kirk and surveys the frozen landscape that is visible from the side of the mountain. He can see valleys they haven't ventured into, forests with enormous trees in the distance, and a frozen lake that looks like it might have once been a crater.  
  
"Well, if we do get some alien tribe knocking on our door one morning, we'll just try to be gracious guests, right?" Kirk says. "We'll offer them some ass wine and they'll be ready to break bread with us as soon as they taste it."  
  
"Maybe ass wine is a delicacy in this place," Chekov says, grinning.  
  
"God, what I'd give for some real fucking wine," Sulu says.  
  
"How dare you," Kirk says, taking the binoculars back. "Mine is real."  
  
"Vodka," Chekov says mournfully, and Sulu and Kirk laugh.  
  
"Pizza," Kirk says, shaking his head. "Pizza before anything else."  
  
They talk about the things they miss from home all the way back to the camp, Sulu listing butter, salt, and spices, though he hopes to harvest and canister some of those here when the winter thaws. Chekov misses video games and well-stocked laboratories and hot showers.  
  
"I miss my chair," Kirk says, and Sulu tries not to laugh, because he seems sincere, and certainly he misses the things that chair represents, but Sulu can't help it and bursts into laughter that echoes through the valley. Kirk narrows his eyes and pushes him, then grins and pulls him back.  
  
"You guys don't even know," Kirk says. "The cushion had butt warmers."  
  
"What do you call me and Pavel?" Sulu says, pretending to be offended, and Kirk laughs. For a moment Sulu thinks Kirk is going to kiss his cheek, and he shouldn't be disappointed when he doesn't.  
  
" _Keptin_ , Hikaru, look," Chekov says, jogging ahead through the snow and pointing to something on the ground. "Tracks. This looks like a beast of some kind."  
  
"Oh man," Kirk says. "'Beast' goes on the list when we get back. Or maybe that whole phase. _A beist of suhm khind_." Sulu and Kirk keep a list in the notebook of their favorite words when pronounced by Chekov. It includes _leetle_ and _wodka_ and _fah-king_. There was a significant disagreement over whether or not to include _Keptin_. Chekov pretends to hate the list but he always smiles a little when one of them hurries to add something to it.  
  
They follow the tracks into the woods, keeping quiet, Sulu with his bow drawn, an arrow twirling between his fingers. It's not hard to spot the animal's dark brown in the white landscape, and it's distracted, sniffing at some mushrooms that are growing at the base of a tree. Sulu's heart is pounding as he threads the arrow into the bow. He's shot at rabbit-like creatures before but they're too fast and small and he's never ready for them when they sudden dart out of the bushes on the dunes. He steadies the shot while the brown-furred animal is sniffing around the mushrooms, his back to the impromptu hunting party. Kirk and Chekov are both ducking behind Sulu, their hands on his shoulders, as if they need to hold him steady.  
  
"Take your time," Kirk whispers, and Sulu could kill him for making a noise in the otherwise silent landscape. The animal -- Jesus, it kind of looks like a boar, a snout and tusks and all -- looks up immediately, and Sulu fires before it can bolt. The arrow sinks into the thing's fat backside, and Sulu can already taste the meat as he quickly reloads and runs after the animal, delivering the kill shot before it can get away. Kirk is shouting and cheering like he just won the Superbowl, and Chekov jumps on Sulu's back, laughing wildly, hugging Sulu's shoulders and kissing his cheek.  
  
Sulu pretty much feels like he was just promoted to king of everything everywhere. Chekov and Kirk go nuts over him, dancing around the dead animal as its blood soaks the snow.  
  
"Look at that sucker!" Kirk exclaims, throwing his hands out. "Fuckin' -- let's try to lift it. I bet that's forty pounds of meat right there. Maybe fifty."  
  
"Hikaru, you were so good, so good," Chekov says in a voice that's almost sing-song, hugging Sulu, staring at the dead animal as if it's a giant pizza with everything on it, then hugging Sulu again.  
  
"Well, I do what I can," Sulu says, and he snorts when Kirk pounces on him, messing up his hair and laughing hysterically.  
  
They call the thing a South Forest Boar, after the area where it was killed, and Sulu and Kirk take turns carrying it on the way back to camp. They're both exhausted and soaked in blood when they reach the shelter, and they busy themselves with cleaning up while Chekov guards the boar. They peel the bloodiest outer layers of their clothing off and remove their boots before darting into the shelter, teeth chattering as they help each other make a fire in the pit. Once it's going the rest of their clothes come off, and Sulu isn't exactly surprised when Kirk jumps him and pins him naked against the wall of the shelter, kissing him with a low moan, as if he can't help himself. Sulu kisses him back, wrapping his leg around Kirk's waist and letting Kirk hold it there as they grind together, Kirk practically lifting Sulu off the ground.  
  
"Wanna suck your dick," Kirk growls into Sulu's mouth. The shelter smells like animal blood and Sulu feels like he could do anything, like he's just come back from slaughtering Romulans and Kirk just caught him in midair and Chekov just saved both of them simply by virtue of existing elsewhere.  
  
"We can't," Sulu whispers as Kirk sucks at the skin on Sulu's neck.  
  
"I know," Kirk says. He rubs the beginnings of his erection against Sulu's hip. "But, Jesus." He leans back to give Sulu a dopey grin. "I'm just happy."  
  
"I know," Sulu says. He kisses Kirk quickly on the mouth and then shakes him off, going for the trunk. "Me too." As he dresses he thinks seriously about letting Kirk fuck him. It felt so good to be pinned by him, to be helpless under his weight.  
  
They go back outside when they're dressed in clean clothes, balling up the bloody ones to boil and wash. Sulu does not expect Chekov to be up to his elbows in boar parts already, using a knife to slice the beast into neat sections, but there he is, sleeves rolled up as he stretches the animal's furry hide out over the ground like a blanket.  
  
"We can wash that and use it on the bed," he says happily as Kirk and Sulu stare in disbelief.  
  
"What the hell are you doing?" Kirk asks as Chekov begins to slice a skinned flank into steaks.  
  
"Cleaning it," Chekov says, looking up at them with an expression of slightly wounded innocence that looks disturbingly good on him when his pale cheek is smeared with a little swish of blood.  
  
"How the hell do you know how to clean a -- space boar?" Sulu asks, laughing with disbelief. Someday he'll learn to stop underestimating Chekov.  
  
"Oh, I told you, I thought?" Chekov grins and goes back to work. "My uncle was a butcher. I worked at his shop every summer. Here, look, we can wrap these and store them in the outside trunk. It is so cold outside, it will be like refrigerator!" Chekov sets back to work cheerfully and Sulu laughs, going to wash the clothes while Kirk continues to stand and stare in disbelief at sweet-faced Chekov as he carefully separates out edible organs.  
  
Kirk and Chekov clean and pack the meat while Sulu uses makes a stew with what he's decided to refer to as sirloin, some of the mushrooms the animal was eating when they killed it, and the leaves of a wispy plant that grows near the beach and to Sulu smells almost like oregano. They eat outside for the first time in awhile, too excited about the meat to be very cold. Chekov talks with excitement about all the different things they'll be able to make: jerky, steaks, broth that's not fish-based.  
  
"And potato dumplings, maybe!" Chekov says, wild-eyed at the thought, pulling on Sulu's arm. "If we could find some flour. In the spring, do you think there will be wheat? Of course we'd have to grind it. Do you know about grinding flour?" he asks Sulu, so serious with the question that Sulu can't help but laugh. He kisses Chekov's forehead.  
  
"I'm sure we could figure it out," he says. "Until then, you'll just have to be our little dumpling, huh?" Sulu bites at Chekov's ear and Chekov squirms away, laughing, only to land against Kirk, who nips at his other ear.  
  
Something about the red meat makes them all feel sort of powerful and reckless, and they pop open the fermented citrus fruit juice, in such high spirits that they decide that it actually tastes good. They get the fire roaring strongly in the pit after they've shut themselves into the shelter, using more wood than they need, but after the victory with the boar and the energy they've gotten from its meat the prospect of chopping more wood seems like nothing at all. Sulu tackles Chekov to the bed before he can get too drunk, kissing his neck and grinding against him. Kirk drops down next to them and props himself up on an elbow, rubbing his fingers through Chekov's curls and kissing his cheeks. Sulu usually allows this sort of thing so that Kirk doesn't just have to lie there and watch them, but tonight he feels kind of possessive, a hunter who brought home food for his clever little mate to clean for him. Sulu likes this feeling, he loves it, and he wants to fuck Chekov so hard by the firelight, wants Kirk to stay out of it because Chekov is _his_ , goddammit, and he's so riled up by the time he gets Chekov's clothes off that he's already planning on falling asleep with his dick still inside Chekov, not willing to let him go even after he's marked him with his come.  
  
"Hikaru, what has gotten into you?" Chekov asks, smiling up at Sulu wickedly, because of course he knows exactly what has gotten into him. Sulu pins Chekov's hands up over his head as he rubs his still-clothed body over Chekov's bare skin, feeling crazy. He grins when he comes up with something for Kirk to do while Sulu takes this soft, willing body beneath him.  
  
"Hold his hands," Sulu says to Kirk, who laughs but scrambles to do as Sulu asked, sitting at the head of the bed and clasping Chekov's wrists. "Tight," Sulu says to Kirk, who licks his lips. Chekov whines as Kirk's strong hands squeeze his skinny wrists, and Sulu imagines that Kirk can feel Chekov's pulse hammering under his thumbs. Sulu presses his face to Chekov's neck and moans at the frantic beat of Chekov's pulse against his cheek.  
  
"Hikaru," Chekov breathes out, arching. "Inside me, please."  
  
"Shhh." Sulu wants that, too, badly, but he wants to see Chekov squirm first, and he wants Kirk to see Chekov squirm, to watch Sulu claim him. Sulu rubs his hands all over Chekov, drinking in the sight of his pale skin as it flushes with arousal. He leans down to bite and lick at Chekov's little pink nipples, rubbing his trapped cock between Chekov's open legs as Chekov whines and moans. Chekov has his legs spread wide and lifted around Sulu's sides, begging for it, needing it.  
  
"Look how bad you want my cock," Sulu says with a smirk, taking hold of one of Chekov's raised ankles, his other hand stroking teasingly over Chekov's stomach. "So open for me, aren't you?"  
  
" _Nghh_ , Hikaru," Chekov moans in frustration, throwing his head back. Sulu looks up and sees Kirk sucking on Chekov's fingers, and he's going to protest, but then he doesn't bother.  
  
"Who brought you your dinner, baby?" Sulu asks, grinding against Chekov's tight balls and then lower, against his hole, and though Sulu can't see it he knows it's clenching for him, flexing hungrily.  
  
"You did, you did," Chekov says, locking his legs around Sulu's back. Sulu can see him straining against Kirk's grip, wanting his arms around Sulu's shoulders, and Sulu's cock leaks into his underwear at the sight.  
  
"Who takes care of his baby, hmm?" Sulu has never been a big dirty talker, but he's drunk, and he likes knowing that Kirk is listening. "Who do you want _deep_ inside you, Pavel, fucking you _so_ hard?"  
  
"You, you, Hikaru, oh, please! Don't torture me!"  
  
"It's torture, not having my cock stuffed up your ass?"  
  
"Yes _sss_."  
  
"Feeling all empty, your little hole wanting my dick so badly --"  
  
"Hikaru!"  
  
"Needing to be stretched, filled -- oh, it's gonna feel good, Pavel, my big cock pushing inside while your tight hole strains to take it --"  
  
Kirk moans and Sulu looks up to see that he's holding Chekov's wrists together with one hand now, his other hand frantically scrabbling to get his pants open. Sulu smirks and watches Kirk breathe out with relief as he takes hold of his dick, closing his eyes and pumping it in his fist, his mouth hanging open, his bottom lip fat and wet. Sulu drops his eyes slowly back down to Chekov, who is panting and whining, shaking with need. When Sulu begins to unfasten his pants Chekov groans in approval, twisting his body up toward Sulu's.  
  
"Hikaru, oh," Chekov says, pulling against Kirk's grip, but Kirk is still holding him tightly. Chekov looks up at Sulu and whines, legs spread wide to show Sulu his milky white thighs contrasted around his flushed, leaking cock, his nipples still glistening with Sulu's spit, rock hard.  
  
"You're fucking perfect," Sulu says, drawing his hand slowly down Chekov's chest as he fumbles for the itch cream with the other hand. "All mine."  
  
"Yours, yours," Chekov moans, like it's the only word he knows, and when Sulu pushes into him he can feel every inch of Chekov going weak as he relinquishes control of his body to Sulu, his chest heaving helplessly. Sulu can hear the slap of Kirk's hand over his cock as he jerks himself hard, watching this. It's hardly the first time Kirk has watched, but something is different tonight. Sulu owns Chekov in a way that he never has before; even Kirk can see it.  
  
Sulu fucks Chekov in slow drags, making him beg until he's crying, and then pounds him hard, holding him up off the mat by the backs of his knees, losing himself to it and closing his eyes, his head falling back. Chekov screams and comes all over himself, Kirk moaning in response but still hard in his hand when Sulu looks over at him. Their eyes meet, and Sulu holds Kirk's gaze while Chekov recovers from his orgasm, then watches Kirk's gaze sink down to the connection between Sulu and Chekov's bodies. Sulu knows how badly Kirk wants this, and he comes hard as Kirk watches the slick slide of Sulu cock into Chekov's opened body. Kirk comes like he was just waiting to see Sulu's face contract with his own orgasm, and Sulu falls down around Chekov to hide his shivering chest.  
  
"Baby," Sulu whispers against Chekov's swollen lips as he pulls out of him. Chekov whispers _I love you_ in Russian, and Sulu is almost out of it enough to miss what he's doing, but then he forces his eyes open and stares down at Chekov, surprised by him. Chekov looks perfectly alert, maybe even mean. Before Chekov involved Kirk, before he decided he needed Sulu in him every night badly enough to give up their privacy, Chekov would always tell Sulu that he loved him after sex, always in Russian. Sulu would answer in English, every time, _I love you, too_. But now Kirk is here, and Chekov is still hiding behind his Russian, and Sulu doesn't want Chekov to let Kirk take this from them, too. He can't believe that Chekov is testing him like this.  
  
"Me too," Sulu finally says, because he has to say something. Chekov's eyes go cold and still, his question answered. Sulu pretends not to understand, kissing Chekov's nose before rolling off of him. Chekov wanted him to say it in front of Kirk, something that would alienate Kirk more completely than any connection between Sulu's and Chekov's bodies ever could. He wanted to use their love to put Kirk in his place. Sulu rolls onto his side, his heart beating fast and his mind filled with rage and confusion. Kirk sighs as if all is well and dumps himself onto the bed to wrap around Sulu, who had actually managed to forget that it's his turn to be in the middle.  
  
"Goddamn, Lieutenant," Kirk says, smirking and looking proud of Sulu. "Love watching you fuck the hell out of him like that." Normally Sulu would snarl at a comment like this and turn away to hold Chekov, but he's furious, what just happened building on the anger he's held in for a long time, the fact that Chekov won't say _I love you_ in English, that he gets to protect himself and Sulu can't do the same. So Sulu lets Kirk kiss him and stroke fingers through his hair, his back turned on Chekov. He can hear Chekov breathing hard behind him, and he knows that Chekov is furious, too, and that he will be for awhile. Good. Sulu can't believe he ruined this day, when everything was so perfect, the three of them well-fed and hopeful for once. He leans up to kiss Kirk more deeply, and Kirk laughs against Sulu's lips.  
  
"Careful," he says. "You'll make me hard again." He strokes Sulu's face tenderly, still as happy as Sulu was a few minutes ago, oblivious to what just happened.  
  
Sulu turns onto his back and looks at Chekov, who is on his side, curled up, his hands tucked under his chin. If Sulu told him he loved him now, Chekov might forgive him. But he doesn't appreciate being tested like this, and he's not going to let Chekov play such dangerous games with Kirk's feelings, not any more than he already has. Sulu tucks a stray curl behind Chekov's ear, and Chekov looks up at him, distant and blank. Sulu pulls the blankets up over Chekov's shoulder and tucks them around him more snugly.  
  
"My little butcher," Sulu says, pressing his thumb over Chekov's rosebud lips. Kirk laughs. Chekov just stares.  
  
"That was something else, coming around the corner to see him hacking that thing up," Kirk says. He's leaning up on his elbow, snug along Sulu's side, his leg wrapped around Sulu possessively.  
  
"We should have replicated a fingernail brush with that other grooming stuff," Sulu says. He's still holding Chekov's gaze, the quiet fury burning between them and dancing around in Sulu's chest, making his body feel like a weapon that's about to go off. "You've still got blood under your nails."  
  
"We're going to run out of soap," Chekov says. He puts his face against Sulu's shoulder, and Sulu wraps an arm around him.  
  
"We're going to run out of everything," Sulu says. "But we can replace most of it with stuff we find on the planet. We'll be okay."  
  
"We're going to be here forever, aren't we?" Chekov says. He looks at Kirk, maybe accusing him. They're all drunk; they should probably stop now and hope to forget most of this by morning.  
  
"Well, we'll die eventually," Kirk says flatly, giving Chekov an irritated look. "So not forever."  
  
"Alright, Jesus," Sulu says. "Let's go to sleep."  
  
Sulu can't sleep on his back, so he rolls onto his stomach, turning his face toward Chekov's on the pillow. Chekov responds to this gesture by rolling away from him, so Sulu turns toward Kirk, exhausted by the intricacies of even going to sleep in this fucking place, exhausted by everything. Kirk waits until Chekov's breath is whistling from his nose as he sleeps, then kisses Sulu's face very softly. Sulu opens his eyes. He was waiting, too.  
  
Kirk smiles and pushes his face against Sulu's, nuzzles him, his fingers rubbing up under Sulu's shirt beneath the blankets, stroking his back, the longing in his innocent touches making Sulu's cock twitch.  
  
"All that shit you said to him before you fucked him," Kirk whispers. "About feeling empty, needing to be filled, stretched -- you kinda sounded like you know how that feels."  
  
Sulu snorts, not confirming or denying this. Kirk doesn't let up, opening his big hand over the small of Sulu's back. He makes Sulu feel little, like the kind of man who can be picked up and pinned against a wall, whereas Chekov makes Sulu feel brawny, strong and broad-chested, someone who has to regulate his urges lest he hurt his little baby. Sulu is a different person entirely when Kirk touches him. His cock hardens as Kirk strokes the pads of his callused fingers very softly over the tiny hairs on Sulu's back.  
  
"I dream about fucking you," Kirk whispers in Sulu's ear, making him shiver. "Every night. Wake up so hard."  
  
Like Sulu needs to be told. He's grown accustomed to waking to Kirk's monstrous dick nudged between the cheeks of his ass, heavy and warm even through four layers of clothing. It's comforting, in a strange way. Sulu usually gives Kirk some attention in the morning, along with Chekov, who will yawn and sigh as if giving Kirk a hand job is just part of his morning routine. Sulu gets a bit more into it, and usually needs to fuck Chekov afterward.  
  
"Dream on, then," Sulu says, giving Kirk a teasing smile. Kirk groans and Sulu laughs under his breath. Sulu dreams about it, too, Kirk's big dick opening him wide, the way Kirk would hold him down and dominate him, how his come would feel leaking out of Sulu as he fell asleep with Kirk's naked body wrapped protectively around his. He wants it, and he knows he'll get it, but not tonight. Chekov would be irrevocably hurt if Sulu let Kirk fuck him tonight.  
  
"C'mon," Kirk whispers, half-mounting Sulu with his leg sliding across the backs of Sulu's knees. "It's not like I just want to get off. I want to be inside you, Hikaru. I want to -- to feel something with you, I -- I fucking love you. Don't pretend you don't know."  
  
Sulu looks up with surprise. Of course he knows that Kirk is in love with him. Chekov can see it, too, which explains his little test, his anxiety. Sulu didn't expect to hear Kirk say it out loud, though, maybe because he's grown accustomed to Chekov's reluctance to ever utter that phrase in a language Sulu understands. Kirk smiles, shy and impish, and kisses Sulu's nose.  
  
"I'll say it louder if you want me to," Kirk whispers, his eyes going a bit darker. "I don't care if he hears me."  
  
"Quiet," Sulu hisses. So maybe Kirk wasn't so oblivious to what happened after all. Kirk grins and rubs his face against Sulu's, his hand sneaking further up underneath Sulu's shirt, until his fingers grip the base of Sulu's neck, his arm heavy and warm up the length of Sulu's spine. Sulu sighs and stares into Kirk's eyes. Under the veil of amusement, he knows Kirk is hurting deeply. Sulu shouldn't be encouraging this.  
  
"Just go to sleep," Sulu begs.  
  
"Alright." Kirk closes his eyes. "But I'll be fucking you in my dreams, Hikaru. Nice and hard, oh, and you'll be screaming my name, reaching back to pull yourself open because you want me deeper --"  
  
"Shh!" Sulu's face is burning, and he knows Kirk can feel it, the effect he's having on him, even with Sulu's erection hidden against the mat. Kirk laughs a little under his breath and gives the back of Sulu's neck a squeeze.  
  
"Who takes care of you, baby?" Kirk whispers, and Sulu grunts with annoyance. He rolls over toward Chekov, pulling Chekov against his chest. Chekov is dead weight, fast asleep. Kirk presses himself to Sulu's back, rubbing his erection against the crack of Sulu's ass.  
  
"Alright, be that way," Kirk says, pretending to find all of this hilarious. "I'll be here when you're ready. 'Cause I know you want it, too, Hikaru." He licks Sulu's ear and sighs, settling his chin onto Sulu's shoulder and wrapping an arm around his side before dropping into sleep.  
  
Sulu lies there between them, his heart pounding. He was terrified, for a moment there, that Kirk would say _I know you love me, too_.


	4. Chapter 4

Things are weird after that, and Sulu is surprised to find that additional weirdness can actually exist in a situation that is already well beyond the strangest fucking thing he's ever experienced. Maybe it's the introduction of red meat into their diets, but they're all a little crueler to each other in the days after the victory with the boar, and more prone to wandering off alone. Sulu goes to the South Forest with his bow and arrow at least once a day, not spotting any more boars but killing an occasional rodent the size and texture of a tribble. They don't provide much meat but they're tasty, and Sulu nicknames them Chicken Hamsters. He also spends a lot of his time gathering herbs that smell like they might flavor dishes favorably, and becomes the sort of unofficial chef of the group. The cold dies down a bit and Sulu does most of his cooking outside.   
  
Chekov has gotten back to surveying and though he insists he'd be fine on his own, Sulu makes Kirk go with him whenever he ventures more than a few miles from camp. He wants Kirk and Chekov to bond, wants them to quit sniping at each other and at Sulu, and it does seem to make them closer but they're both still pretty bitchy to Sulu, never waking him up with their tongues stroking his cock anymore and barely thanking him for the meals he cooks. Kirk wants to fuck Sulu and doesn't understand what Sulu is waiting for. Sulu is waiting for Chekov to stop holding a grudge, but he knows that this might just be a fool's hope. Chekov is a master at holding grudges. He still doesn't really like or trust Dr. McCoy just because of some smart ass comment McCoy made about Chekov's age during the Nero incident.  
  
Though Sulu doesn't really feel like he should apologize, he does little things for Chekov to court him. He makes him a chess board, and plays with him whenever he asks, though Chekov always wins and always grins smugly afterward, something that can be adorable one day and insufferable the next. He rubs Chekov's back after dinner while Kirk is outside making arrows for the bow or cleaning up the dishes. He lets Chekov be on top when they have sex, bouncing languidly in Sulu's lap or slamming down onto Sulu while Sulu is stretched out on the bed, Kirk sneaking the tip of his cock between Sulu's lips while Chekov rides Sulu like he's a fuck toy. Chekov will come all over Sulu's chest and then sigh happily, dismounting while Sulu is still hard and settling back to watch Kirk finish him off with his hand.   
  
"Why don't you let him come inside you anymore?" Kirk asks Chekov one night after this process has played out, Chekov lying in the middle while Kirk plays with his curls and Sulu sulks, still annoyed that he had to come in Kirk's hand instead of Chekov's body.   
  
"Afraid you're going to get pregnant?" Kirk asks with a grin, leaning down to kiss Chekov when Chekov giggles. Sulu can tell when Chekov is only being nice to Kirk in an attempt to make Sulu jealous, and it pisses him off like nothing else.   
  
"I'm being punished," Sulu says, because he knows Chekov won't answer this question seriously.   
  
"For what?" Kirk asks. Sulu isn't positive, but Kirk has probably forgotten the infamous _Me too_ transgression. Chekov's memory is longer than most people's.  
  
"I don't know, for going along with his plan?" Sulu says. He's staring down at Chekov, tired of the quiet tension. Chekov is avoiding Sulu's eyes, picking at his fingernails and keeping his face impassive.   
  
"Plan for what?" Kirk asks, and Sulu wishes Kirk wasn't so fucking adorable when he's confused.  
  
"I am not punishing you, Hikaru," Chekov says. He gives Sulu a wicked little smile. "If you were being punished, I would do much worse."  
  
Kirk hoots out a laugh and Sulu rolls his eyes. He curls around Chekov's side and bites at his neck until Chekov laughs and squirms away from him, pressing against Kirk.   
  
"Is that a threat?" Sulu asks. He licks into Chekov's ear and rubs his hand down over Chekov's bare chest. "Trying to tell me I'd better not do anything to displease king Pavel?"  
  
"You're making him hard again," Kirk says, his eyes on Chekov's cock as it rises from his belly. "He's thinking about spanking you or something, Hikaru."   
  
"I am not!" Chekov elbows Kirk and huffs at Sulu's touches.   
  
"Well, then what would you do to punish my Lieutenant, huh?" Kirk asks, grinning and pinching at Chekov's nipple while Sulu reaches down to rub his hand over the insides of Chekov's opening thighs.   
  
"He's not your Lieutenant, _Keptin_ ," Chekov says, flashing Kirk a deadly look that Sulu never thought he'd see Chekov give anyone, let alone Kirk, whose attention on the bridge once made Chekov blush and sweat.  
  
"Oh no?" Kirk says, still smiling like it's all a game, still touching Chekov wherever he pleases. "Has there been a mutiny? Are you the captain now?"  
  
"No." Chekov smiles. "But he's still mine, not yours."  
  
"Insubordinate brat," Kirk says, sliding two fingers into Chekov's mouth. "He might be yours and you might be his, but both of you are still mine. That's a good little Ensign," Kirk says as he fucks Chekov's wet mouth with his fingers. "Suck me, that's right. You know what your smart ass mouth is really good for."   
  
Chekov groans in protest but keeps sucking. Sulu watches, his heart pounding, not sure if these things are being said seriously or as anxious jokes, not sure that there's a difference at this point. He strokes Chekov's cock and Chekov's eyes shift from Kirk's to Sulu's. He whines a little.   
  
"What's the matter, Pavel?" Sulu asks, rubbing Chekov's balls with his thumb. "You want something bigger in your mouth? A superior officer's dick?"  
  
"Fuck yeah," Kirk says, growling as the sight of Chekov's hot blush. "That's what he wants, Mr. Sulu. That's what every good little Ensign wants, isn't it, Pavel? To get used nice and hard by the senior staff and sent back to his quarters covered in their come."   
  
Chekov moans and thrusts up into Sulu's hand, and Sulu grins at Kirk. They've never done what they're both clearly thinking about, but Sulu wants it more than anything now.   
  
"You want to be filled from both ends, don't you?" Kirk says, pulling his fingers from Chekov's panting mouth. "Want to suck your captain's dick while his pilot pounds your jailbait ass?"  
  
"My pilot," Chekov breathes out.  
  
"Hey." Kirk leans down and puts the nip of nose against Chekov's, and Chekov actually looks frightened for a moment. "He might be your boyfriend, but he's _my_ pilot, you little bitch."  
  
Chekov whimpers and Sulu sits up, ready to tell Kirk he's gone too far, he can't call Chekov that and expect Sulu to allow it, but then Chekov kisses Kirk hard, and for the first time Sulu wonders what exactly has been going on between the two of them during their little map-making excursions. Chekov is kissing Kirk like he's much more comfortable with it than he looked the last time Sulu sat back like this and watched.   
  
" _Keptin_ ," Chekov moans, and Sulu tries to tell himself that Chekov is still only trying to make him jealous. "Please, yes, I want this." He looks down at Sulu. "Hikaru, come here."   
  
It's better than Sulu expected, watching Chekov struggle to fit Kirk's big cock in his mouth as Sulu fucks him hard from behind, pushing him onto Kirk, trying to find a rhythm but never really succeeding, just pounding Chekov's ass until he's coming in him hard, groaning with unrestrained pleasure as he reclaims him. Kirk comes at the sight, pulling out to shoot on Chekov's face. Chekov's mouth is hanging open, his tongue working hungrily over his swollen lips as he tries to get as much of Kirk's come into his mouth as he can, his eyes closed. Sulu feels like he could come again just from watching, and he pulls out of Chekov to sit back and admire his slack hole as Sulu's come drips from it.   
  
"Yeah," Sulu says, talking to himself. "I filled you up good, didn't I, baby?" Sulu says, rubbing the small of Chekov's back as Kirk helps Chekov wipe his face clean, kissing some of his come from Chekov's lips.   
  
" _Da_ ," Chekov cries out brokenly, and that's when Sulu sees that Chekov is still hard. He smirks and leans down to breathe over Chekov's hole, figuring since they're already being weird, why not.   
  
"Look how raw you are," Sulu whispers, knowing Chekov can feel the heat of the words on his hole. Chekov's little whimper is almost lost in Kirk's powerful groan.   
  
"Oh, shit, Hikaru," Kirk says.   
  
"Made my baby so dirty," Sulu says, licking Chekov softly with just the tip of his tongue, once around the rim. Chekov screams and bucks backward, burying his face in the blankets and pulling at his hair.   
  
"So open," Sulu whispers, licking again, still only soft, teasing the swollen rim. Chekov's desperate shouts go right to Sulu's tired dick, and Kirk's moans aren't bad, either.   
  
"God, Hikaru," Kirk says, looking hypnotized as he watches.  
  
"Do you like that, Pavel?" Sulu asks. He gives Chekov's hole one wide, generous lick and Chekov lets out a guttural groan, his thighs beginning to quiver.  
  
"Hikaru," he whines. "Please, please. Don't stop."  
  
Sulu doesn't stop. He laps at Chekov's raw entrance, soothing it with his tongue while Chekov clenches and curses and finally comes hard all over the blankets. Chekov collapses onto his stomach, panting and sweating, and Sulu gives him two wet kisses against his soft, white ass cheeks and then pulls a blanket around his shoulders as he stands from the bed.  
  
"Captain, kiss Ensign Chekov for me," Sulu says. "I have to brush my teeth." He gives Chekov's ass a little tap with his foot.   
  
"Hikaru," Chekov mumbles into the blankets, slumped there with his eyes closed. Kirk rolls him over and kisses his sleepy face, saving his mouth for Sulu, something Sulu appreciates as he stands on the other side of the shelter over the water basin, brushing his teeth with more toothpaste than he usually allows himself to use. They only have one tube left after this one is finished.   
  
"Damn, that was the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen," Kirk says, wide-eyed as Sulu comes back to the bed. Sulu feels a bit like he did when he killed the boar, Kirk and Chekov both impressed with him. He grins and flops down to pull Chekov into his arms, kissing him deeply and tasting Kirk's come on Chekov's tongue.   
  
"Hikaru, Hikaru," Chekov whispers into his mouth. He curls around Sulu and clings desperately, and Sulu holds him tight, smiling at Kirk over Chekov's shoulder.  
  
"I guess you're out of the dog house," Kirk says, pulling the blankets up over both of them as he seals himself against Chekov's back. Chekov sighs with contentment and noses at Sulu's jaw.   
  
"I love you," Chekov says, and Sulu buries his face in Chekov's curls. He wasn't expecting that at all.   
  
"I love you, too." Sulu looks up at Kirk when he says it. So he won't feel left out. Kirk grins and rubs his fingers through Chekov's hair, and then Sulu's, as if they do belong to him, his little toy soldiers.   
  
"'Night, Lieutenant," Kirk says, his fingers stroking down the back of Sulu's neck. "Night, Jailbait," he says to Chekov, humping against him once. Chekov grins, his eyes still closed, and reaches back to paw at Kirk.  
  
" _Keptin_ ," Chekov murmurs, beginning to go soft with sleep between them. He hides his face in Sulu's chest and sighs.   
  
Sulu stays awake for a little while longer, his chin resting on top of Chekov's head, and he lets Kirk pet him lazily, tickling his fingers across the back of Sulu's neck and down over his shoulder.   
  
"Who takes care of you, baby?" Kirk whispers, and only then does Sulu remember that it was Kirk who broached the subject of Chekov's standoff.   
  
"You do," Sulu whispers back, and Kirk smiles.  
  
*  
  
After that, things are easier, less weird. Sulu should have known that debauchery was the only appropriate solution, given what's come before. The weather warms a bit, still frosty but less bitter, warmer winds blowing in from the ocean. They spend late mornings in bed, telling each other stupid stories from their past lives, laughing like Academy boys with hangovers as they touch each other aimlessly, tweaking nipples in the midst of conversation, rubbing against each other with nothing particular in mind. Sulu is always looking for a warm neck to hide his face against, and he doesn't weigh the consequences like he used to, just turns against whoever is closer, smiling when he can feel Kirk or Chekov's pulse against his eyelids.   
  
Sulu is getting better with the bow and arrow and they're eating relatively well; Kirk catches a small shark one day and they're so impressed with it that they let it go rather than cutting it up for soup and steaks. Sulu spends some time testing approximations of toothpaste and lubricant and soap, some more successful than others. Chekov shadows him most days, offering advice and tasting herbal ingredients, but sometimes he goes off exploring with Kirk. Sometimes the three of them spend whole days together, like they used to, but not because they're afraid of what parting might do to them. Sometimes they just don't want to be away from each other.  
  
Kirk still gives Sulu the occasional devastating look of longing, and Sulu wants what Kirk does, has started dreaming about it himself, but he's afraid to upset the balance they've struck. He doesn't want to suffer another three week stretch of anxiety without Chekov's easy smile and open adoration. Most days he wishes Kirk would just take him so he can stop wondering when or if the time will ever be right, and then, one day, he does.  
  
It's a morning when Sulu is sleeping in the middle. The fire has burned out, but it's warm enough under the blankets now not to need immediate revival. Sulu wakes up to Kirk's hot kisses on the back of his neck, and he smiles, arching back against him in a stretch. Chekov stirs and blinks at Sulu sleepily. He tucks his face under Sulu's chin to go back to sleep, but Kirk won't let him, and Chekov whines with annoyance when Kirk tugs on one of his curls.  
  
"Pavel," Kirk whispers, his hand trailing slowly down Sulu's naked body. "Watch."  
  
Chekov glowers at Kirk and leans back to see what he's talking about. Sulu isn't sure himself, still mostly asleep, and he gasps when Kirk's hand creeps down to part his ass cheeks, his finger already slicked as he feels around in the heat between them.  
  
"You still want this, Lieutenant?" Kirk whispers in Sulu's ear.   
  
Sulu is staring at Chekov as he struggles to formulate his answer, Kirk's finger digging in deeper, rubbing around his hole. Sulu wants this more than almost anything. The one thing he wants more is Chekov's forgiveness and love and his whole heart, intact, not darkened by the things they've done.  
  
Chekov smiles and pushes his face against Sulu's. He sighs, reaching down to find Sulu's morning wood.   
  
"Is he going to fuck you now, Hikaru?" Chekov whispers, sounding way too young to say such a thing. Sulu forgets, all the time now, that Chekov is only eighteen.   
  
"Yes, baby," Sulu whispers, his voice shaking. He kisses Chekov's lips, licking them apart. "Are you gonna watch?"  
  
"Mmm-hmm," Chekov says, smiling. Sulu groans and pushes back against Kirk's finger, which breaches him slickly just then. Sulu wishes they had replicated a goddamn cock ring, because he already feels like he could come, and he wants this to last. He laughs out loud when he realizes it doesn't matter if he comes eight times: he's the one getting fucked. All he has to do is open up and take it. The idea makes his cock throb in Chekov's hand.   
  
"He's tight," Kirk says, speaking to Chekov. "Pulling at me, though, sucking on my finger with his muscles. God, he wants it bad." Kirk kisses the soft place behind Sulu's ear, and Chekov just watches, mesmerized, his finger circling absently over the wet tip of Sulu's cock. All three of them are still under the blankets, all completely naked, since it's warm enough to sleep this way now. Sulu feels like he could die of how good this is, both of them touching him, Chekov sleepy and soft, Kirk sneaky and sure, finding Sulu's prostate and stroking him there, growling when Sulu screams.   
  
"That's good, isn't it?" he whispers in Sulu's ear as Sulu pants, pushing himself back, wanting more. "Hikaru, shit, look at you. I just want you to fall to fucking pieces for me, baby, can you do that?"  
  
"Yes, yes, yes," Sulu moans, fucking himself clumsily onto Kirk's finger. Kirk laughs a little and slides another in. Sulu grabs for Chekov's arm and squeezes it as the burn of the intrusion spikes and then fades. It's been a long time since he had anyone inside him. Not since the Academy.   
  
Kirk is a famously good lover, according to the rumors, and Sulu is already sure they're all true. He seems to know exactly what Sulu needs even before Sulu does, and he'll give it to him, take it away for a moment, and then come back with twice the sweet, hot pressure, pulling Sulu apart inch by inch. Sulu just lies on his stomach, spread for Kirk, moaning and drooling and whispering _yeahhh_ when Kirk connects with his prostate. Chekov has scooted back a bit, letting Sulu have this without distractions, and Sulu can see Chekov's hand moving on his cock under the blankets as he watches.   
  
"You like seeing our pilot like this?" Kirk asks Chekov when he's got two fingers deep inside Sulu, fucking him open slowly. Chekov nods, his knees sliding apart under the blankets.  
  
"He's fucking pretty when he feels good, but we knew that already," Kirk says, leaning down to press tender kisses to Sulu's neck. "Look how sweet he gets when he's not the one in control. _Mmm_ , Hikaru." Sulu can hear a hint of something dangerously real when Kirk says his name just then, rubbing his cock against Sulu's ass cheek as he gently scissors his fingers inside him. Kirk feels about a foot long and as thick as a drain pipe against Sulu's skin, and Sulu wants every fucking inch of him.  
  
"I'm ready," Sulu says breathlessly. "Please, Captain, I need it."  
  
"I know you do," Kirk whispers, ghosting kisses down over the bumps of Sulu's spine. Sulu has never felt so completely, blissfully relaxed, which is strange, considering the fact that his ass is clenching around two invading fingers and he's about to have another man inside him for the first time in four years.  
  
Having Kirk finally push inside can't exactly be described as relaxing. Chekov scrambles over to stroke and kiss Sulu's face as Sulu pushes out harsh, pained breaths, telling Kirk to continue even when he feels like he's being roasted on a spit over fire that crawls across his skin mercilessly. Kirk pets him, too, trembling between Sulu's spread legs, and Sulu wishes now that he'd tried this on his back instead of his stomach, but something had seemed wrong about that, because that's how Chekov opens himself to Sulu when they fuck, and this is different, so it should look different.   
  
"Crawl up onto your knees," Kirk says, panting. Sulu keeps thinking that Kirk is fully encased inside him, but then he'll slowly work in a little more, stopping when Sulu screams. "It might help," Kirk says, rubbing Sulu's back. His hand is shaking, and Sulu thinks, insanely, that this is painful for him, too.   
  
Sulu does as Kirk suggested, and maybe it helps, though he can't really tell. All he can comprehend at the moment is pressure, fullness, strain. He grits his teeth as Kirk works what must be the last of his length in, because now Sulu can feel Kirk's heavy balls resting snugly against him. Sulu has always been kind of fascinated by Kirk's balls, and their presence calms him down a bit, allows him to relax as he puts his head against the bed and breathes hard, Chekov stroking soothing fingers through his hair.   
  
"Don't hurt my Hikaru, _Keptin_ ," Chekov says, and Sulu knows he's joking, just being cute. He would laugh if he wasn't afraid that it would make his ass contract around Kirk's dick.  
  
"I would never hurt him," Kirk says. He sounds offended. "Heek – Lieutenant, do you need me to pull out?"  
  
"Don't fucking call me Lieutenant when you're buried in my ass," Sulu barks. "And, no," he says, making his voice soft again. "Just – just – give me a minute."  
  
"Okay. Okay. Hikaru." Kirk's hand is so soft and needful on Sulu's back, the way he's touching Sulu now somehow more intimate than the act of entering him.  
  
The planet feels too quiet. Sulu wants birds shrieking or the ocean crashing or even the eerie hooting they sometimes hear from the South Forest. All he can hear is Chekov's breath and Kirk's soft moans, little noises he tries to swallow as he throbs inside Sulu.  
  
"Talk to Chekov," Sulu says.  
  
"Huh?" Kirk says, and Sulu would slap his forehead if he could.   
  
"Talk to him. I think it would help me – relax."  
  
"You don't want me to talk to _you_?" Kirk snorts.  
  
"No. Tell – tell him – just talk to him."  
  
Kirk sighs and strokes light fingers over Sulu's tailbone. Sulu wants to kiss him so fucking badly, but he can't exactly do that in this position, so he just thinks about how Kirk will kiss him afterward, how he'll be so tender and concerned and how Sulu will feel, whether it's true or not, like Kirk has never been like this with anyone else.  
  
"So, Pavel," Kirk says. He sounds like he's trying hard not to scream or cry or something, and Sulu knows he wants to fuck Sulu hard, that he's holding back and that it hurts. "Hikaru wants me to talk to you."  
  
"Tell me how my Hikaru feels," Chekov says, getting the idea better than Kirk did, and Sulu lets himself laugh a little, though it comes out as a kind of whimpery sigh. Chekov always has to work that _my_ in there, and Sulu fucking loves him for it, for actually somehow being worried that Sulu might not always be his.  
  
"Heaven," Kirk moans out, one hand soft on Sulu's hip and the other on his back, just his thumb stroking Sulu's skin. "Like heaven, Ensign, that's how he feels."  
  
"Tight?" Chekov prompts. He's got his face pressed to Sulu's but he's looking up at Kirk, and there's something so childish about his hovering, and Sulu loves him, loves him, feels like he never knew how much until this moment, Chekov calmly watching him have sex with someone else.  
  
"Tight, hot, all of that," Kirk says, dismissing it. He leans down, moving very carefully, and wraps his arms around Sulu's chest, pressing his face to Sulu's back. "Hikaru," he whispers there, kissing him. This sort of thing was exactly what Sulu intended to avoid by having Kirk talk to Chekov, but it succeeds in helping Sulu to relax, and Sulu lets out a deep breath, moving back against Kirk a bit.   
  
It's a slow process, and Sulu is quickly lost to the sensation of Kirk moving inside him, little by little, as Kirk trains Sulu's body to take him. Kirk gasps every time Sulu tightens his muscles around him, and Sulu smiles against the blankets. He wishes he could see Kirk's face, but maybe it's best if he doesn't. Chekov is still attendant, kissing Sulu softly when he winces.   
  
"Harder now," Sulu begs before he's really sure that he's ready. "Faster, c'mon."   
  
"Baby, you are so tight," Kirk says. He strokes Sulu's chest, fondles his cock. "I can feel your heartbeat, you know," Kirk whispers, like he doesn't want Chekov to hear. "On the fucking head of my cock, I can feel your _heartbeat_ , Hikaru."  
  
"It's okay," Hikaru says, starting to truly relax as he concentrates on the steady pound of his own heart, understanding his body as something soft and vulnerable that is throbbing around Kirk, helplessly open for him now. "It's okay, you can -- do it, sir."  
  
"Don't call me sir when I'm buried in your ass," Kirk says, maybe joking. He licks Sulu's shoulder.   
  
"Jim," Sulu tries, but he doesn't like the taste of the name. "Kirk. Please."  
  
Kirk doesn't make him beg for long. He gives Sulu the fucking that Sulu has been dreaming about for months, scratching an itch inside Sulu that he has suffered with for much longer than that, ever since Kirk body-slammed him in midair and held onto him as he fell. In Sulu's complete and utter terror, he actually thought that Kirk had only jumped off the drill caught him so that he wouldn't have to die alone. He had no idea that Kirk had a plan, or that they both had Chekov, that they were falling into his capable hands.  
  
This feels like falling without a chute, both of them beginning to lose control as Sulu rolls his hips back against Kirk's, grunting angrily with every thrust, almost as if it's a fight and they're exchanging blows. Sulu's ass is going to be sore as fuck but he doesn't care; Kirk is claiming him and it feels so good, being taken in hand, fucked into the floor, falling apart little by little, like his captain asked him to. Sulu comes when Kirk strikes hard against his prostate, and cries out wordlessly, still jamming himself back onto Kirk's dick, unable to stop, even when it's too much. Kirk groans powerfully when he comes, driving in deep, and Sulu shouts out as a flash of red-hot pain slices through his lingering pleasure. It's quickly gone, fading to sparks of sharp relief as Kirk slides out of him.  
  
Sulu feels like he's just run twenty miles as he slumps down to the bed. He's achy and tired, but the throbbing heat in his sore muscles feels good, and he came harder than he has in years, or maybe it was just different, a more intense sort of release. Kirk rolls him over and Sulu whimpers up into Kirk's mouth, kissing him with slow, sleepy licks. Kirk seems to be all around him, but that's only because Chekov is lying against Sulu's other side, soothing and nuzzling while Kirk stares down into Sulu's eyes. Sulu lets out a deep breath. He feels like he's just survived a battle against all odds, which is something he has actually done with Kirk before. His ass is burning, wrecked, but the burn feels good in contrast with the tingling downbeat of his climax, every inch of him humming with calm.   
  
“Fucking love you,” Kirk whispers, and Sulu opens his mouth for more deep kisses, his eyes sliding shut as Kirk rubs his hand softly over Sulu's chest. Chekov pulls the blankets up and pets Sulu's hair. Sulu doesn't ever want to know anything but this, the two of them coddling him as he comes down.   
  
“Did you come?” Sulu asks, pushing his nose against Chekov's. Chekov grins and nods.   
  
“So hard, Hikaru,” he says. “Watching you like that – _bozhe moi_.”  
  
“I promise to do more dirty-talking next time,” Kirk says with a smirk. “That is – if you ever want to – again.”  
  
Sulu snorts and Kirk laughs self-consciously. He hides his face in Sulu's hair and breathes in deeply. Feeling guilty for a moment, too wrapped up in Kirk, Sulu turns to Chekov and kisses his nose. Chekov is already dozing, and Sulu gives his parted lips a soft kiss.  
  
“He's crazy,” Kirk whispers as he rests his head on the pillow beside Sulu's, his body warm and snug along Sulu's side. “If you were mine I'd never let anyone else touch you.”   
  
Sulu turns to look at Kirk, wishing he wouldn't complicate this with statements like that, but Sulu knows he doesn't deserve to get off easy, and he loves Kirk for never letting him believe that he might.   
  
“I am yours,” Sulu whispers, barely audible. Kirk laughs but Sulu doesn't, just stares into Kirk's eyes until they soften.   
  
“Maybe your ass is mine,” Kirk says. He rubs his finger in the hollow of Sulu's throat, where Sulu's pulse is still hammering. “But the rest belongs to him.”  
  
Sulu doesn't feel like arguing, though he doesn't think this is completely true. He closes his eyes and breathes in the smell of Kirk's skin, which is slightly different now, post-sex. Kirk keeps stroking Sulu's hair as he drifts off to sleep, kissing Sulu lightly over his temple. Sulu dreams about falling, but in the dreams he's unafraid. In the morning, Kirk treats him like an invalid, washing him and making him tea with the leaves Sulu has grown to like, a kind of strong jasmine flavor. Chekov is still asleep, rolled onto his stomach, his curls matted and messy. Sulu drinks his tea and watches Kirk shave over the basin on the other side of the shelter.  
  
“So what are you dreaming about now?” Sulu asks. “Since the old one came true?”  
  
Kirk laughs and rinses his razor in the basin. He stares down at the clouded water, shaking his head.  
  
“Pizza,” Kirk says. He turns and winks at Sulu. “And then fucking you. In that order. And then, you know, cold pizza in the morning.”  
  
“Sounds nice,” Sulu says. He imagines a shore leave like this, two or three days spent mostly in bed, ordering takeout and fucking like maniacs. He's not sure where Chekov fits in. Maybe in an adjoining room, where Sulu would go to get the other things he needs, giddy laughter under the blankets and a soft body that yields to his.   
  
He gulps the rest of his tea and puts the cup aside. For the first time since they crashed here, he hopes they're never rescued. He doesn't want to return to a world where they would have the opportunity to stay in separate rooms.  
  
*  
  
Spring comes, the days growing steadily warmer and tender green leaves returning to the trees. Sulu gets more and more experimental with cooking, and twice gets sick after testing recipes. The second time, he's bed-ridden for a week, Chekov a quiet, diligent nurse and Kirk angry and frantic, asking Sulu what the hell is wrong with him, why he's taking risks like this just to flavor their meals. At night, Sulu sweats so heavily that he soaks the sheets, and Chekov presses his face against Sulu's, crying quietly and begging him to get better. Kirk sleeps with his face buried in Sulu's hair, which is so damp with sweat that Sulu can't tell if Kirk cries or not. In the mornings, Kirk holds Sulu in his lap while Chekov strips the sheets from the bed. Sulu is listless in Kirk's arms as Kirk whispers about how stupid Sulu is, and how he'd better fucking recover, petting Sulu's hair and kissing his forehead.  
  
Sulu finally feels well enough to get out of bed on a day when blinding sunshine soaks in through the cracks in the shelter. It's warm outside as he walks down to the beach, moving slowly, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes puffy, narrowed against the sun. Kirk and Chekov are over by the tide pools, checking their nets for the crabs that have suddenly started appearing on the beach. Sulu sits on the beach, folds his arms over his knees and watches them for awhile. Kirk is irritable, bossing Chekov around, and Chekov is having none of it, cursing him in Russian. Sulu grins when Chekov finally spots him, Chekov's eyes going wide with concern. He jogs over to Sulu, Kirk quickly following when he sees that Chekov isn't just running away from him, but toward Sulu.  
  
“Hikaru, you are not well enough to be outside!” Chekov says as he drops to his knees beside Sulu, spraying sand. He reaches up to put his palm against Sulu's forehead and makes a disapproving noise.  
  
“What the hell are you doing?” Kirk shouts when he arrives, breathless.   
  
“I feel okay,” Sulu says, leaning away from Chekov's nervous prodding. “I need to be in the sun for awhile. I think it'll help.”  
  
“You are shivering, Hikaru!” Chekov says, rubbing Sulu's shoulders. “You should go back to bed – do not push yourself like this!”  
  
“I'm not pushing, I'm fine,” Sulu says, grumbling. Kirk curses and shakes his head, and Sulu looks up to see him turning to stare at the ocean, his eyes rimmed with red.  
  
“I will get you a blanket, at least,” Chekov says. He kisses Sulu's forehead and Sulu smiles at him. When Chekov has jogged off toward the shelter, Sulu looks back to Kirk, who is still watching the ocean with his hands on his hips.  
  
“If you die,” Kirk says.  
  
“I'm not going to die. Jesus. Come here.”   
  
He doesn't really expect Kirk to obey. Still avoiding Sulu's eyes, Kirk walks over to sit behind Sulu. He draws Sulu against his chest, his legs and arms wrapping around Sulu's shivering, weakened frame, and he hides his wet face against Sulu's neck. Sulu pulls Kirk's arms around him more tightly, kissing his clutching hands, his wrists, the crease of his elbow.  
  
“Don't,” Kirk says, choking out one silent sob and squeezing Sulu so tightly Sulu feels like he'll break. He lets his head loll back onto Kirk's shoulder and stares up at the sky.   
  
“Don't what?” Sulu asks, closing his eyes against the sun. The breeze off the ocean is chilly, but the sunlight feels so good.  
  
“Don't fucking do anything without my permission,” Kirk says, his voice broken and muffled. “Like getting sick. That's the last goddamn time, you understand?”  
  
“Yes, Captain,” Sulu says, grinning and nosing at Kirk's neck.   
  
“Hikaru,” Kirk says. He moans the name out like it hurts and pulls Sulu even closer, making Sulu's tired bones ache.   
  
“Yeah, I know.” Sulu kisses Kirk's ear. “I'm sorry.”  
  
Chekov returns with the blanket and looks at Kirk and Sulu with vaguely wounded confusion, as if he doesn't know what to do with himself. Sulu pulls his arms from Kirk's grip and holds them out for Chekov, who scrambles into them eagerly, letting Sulu wrap him into the blanket and hold him against his chest. Sulu leans back against Kirk and rubs Chekov's back, staring at the ocean while Kirk presses endless, desperate kisses to Sulu's cheek.   
  
“ _I_ knew you would be okay,” Chekov says, tipping his face up against Sulu's jaw, and Sulu laughs first, then Kirk, and finally Chekov, too, moaning a little, because he knows they're making fun of him.  
  
“Fine, Pavel, you win,” Kirk says.   
  
Sulu is fully recovered a week later, and the weather seems to coincide with his health, improving by the day, even the nights growing relatively mild. Kirk and Chekov hover around him constantly for awhile, especially when he cooks, but as the warm days unspool and the the trees begin to blossom they ease off, letting Sulu go on walks by himself and for unaccompanied swims in the lagoon. Since his period of immobility in the bed, depending on Chekov and Kirk for everything, he's come to appreciate being alone, and sometimes he'll spend whole days by himself, roaming around with his bow and arrow and returning at dusk with a pair of dead rabbits or hens over his shoulder. Chekov is usually waiting for him, looking anxious while Kirk pretends not to care. Sometimes Sulu fucks Chekov directly upon returning, needing him badly after the long day without his big, worried eyes. Kirk will give them this, cleaning whatever Sulu killed while Sulu takes Chekov into the shelter to fuck him hard, whispering dirty things in Chekov's ear, trying to get him to moan loud enough for Kirk to hear: _That's my good boy, take that cock, baby, take it deep_. Sulu gets off on talking to Chekov like this more than anything, and on the way Chekov looks up at him, playing the part, Sulu's little baby who needs Sulu to use him and protect him and kiss him for a long time afterward, drawing that sweet, bashful smile that Sulu loves.   
  
Sulu will cook while Chekov naps, telling Kirk about what he did during the day, what he saw, Kirk doing the same. They're competitive with each other, both trying to make his day sound more exciting or dangerous or worthwhile. Chekov will stumble out for dinner with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, yawning and leaning against Kirk's shoulder as they both watch Sulu cook. It's Sulu's favorite part of the day, the sky blazing with the sunset and Kirk holding Chekov against his side, ruffling his curls and smelling the scent of sex that Sulu left behind on Chekov's skin. Sulu gets such insanely intense joy out from the thought that Kirk knows Chekov is tired because Sulu fucked him well. Kirk will start shooting Sulu wicked looks as they eat, making Sulu shudder and shift around to keep from getting hard, because Kirk will tease the fuck out of him if he's hard just from anticipation, leaking into his shorts before his back hits the bed.   
  
Kirk fucks Sulu at night or early in the morning, sometimes both. Sometimes Chekov sucks Sulu's cock while he's getting hammered by Kirk, and sometimes he just watches, stroking himself lazily, licking his lips. One night, he crawls up behind Kirk and sticks a spit-slick finger into Kirk's ass, and all three of them come in a powerful chain reaction: Kirk, then Sulu, then Chekov, who empties himself all over Kirk's crack. They fall to the bed in astonished silence, all three of them staring at the roof of the shelter, and Chekov starts laughing first this time. They wear themselves out with it, cracking up, rolling against each other and gasping for breath, eyes watering.  
  
The excitement of the sex fades as the weather gets warmer and warmer, and by the time summer has matured into nights so warm that they can't stand to use the blankets, they're only fooling around with each other on an irregular basis. They finish Kirk's entire supply of fermented fruit juice and spend a lot of their time swimming, sometimes in the ocean but more often in the lagoon, racing each other across the dark, deep water and napping in the sun as their bare skin dries. Sulu has learned not to be afraid of this place. It's a dream world. The only complication is the three of them.  
  
They fight. A couple of times Kirk and Sulu almost come to blows, and once Kirk ends the argument by fucking Sulu hard, Sulu fighting up against him, his teeth gritted and his hands fisted on Kirk's shoulders. Chekov seems kind of freaked out afterward and they both have to cuddle around him and explain that everything is alright. Sulu is not sure that this is true, but he whispers reassurances into Chekov's ear anyway.   
  
“Did he hurt you?” Chekov whispers that night, when Kirk is snoring steadily.   
  
“No,” Sulu says, frowning as if this is insane, though there was a moment when Sulu kind of wondered if Kirk really had full control of himself, if either of them did.   
  
Chekov sighs and pets Sulu's face. He seems five years older than he did when they landed in this place. In another two months it will have been a year. Chekov still keeps track of the date faithfully, like a prisoner marking off days on the wall of his cell.  
  
“I want to go hiking with you tomorrow,” Chekov whispers. “Just you and me.”  
  
Occasionally Chekov and Kirk make demands of Sulu like this: _Come swimming with me, let him sleep. Let me make you breakfast for once – he can get his own. Kiss me, quick, before he comes back_. Sulu doesn't like it, but he likes it even less when Kirk and Chekov take their frustration out on him by going off together. He's pretty sure that they fuck sometimes in secret; he came back from a walk on the beach one afternoon and Chekov wouldn't stop blushing, while Kirk wouldn't look Sulu in the eye. Sulu wanted to kill them both that day, wanted to scream about betrayal, and he laughed hard over the fire he started for dinner, impressed by the boldness of his own hypocrisy.   
  
There are also days, sometimes even weeks, when all three of them fit together seamlessly. Chekov slips on the rocks around the tide pools, spraining his ankle, and Kirk and Sulu are equally attentive as they soothe his fears about a broken bone, drying his tears and taking turns to hold him in their laps as he shivers through the pain. Sulu looks up from the soup he's cooking for Chekov and sees Kirk stroking Chekov's cheek with his thumb while he tells him a story about an injury he had as a kid, making Chekov laugh through his sniffling. It hurts to see that they've come to love each other, too, but it's the good kind of hurt, one that smolders in Sulu's chest like strong medicine.  
  
“What do you think happened to the rest of the crew?” Sulu asks when they're lying on the beach one night, some of their blankets spread under and over them as they huddle together, staring up at the stars. They're smoking the leaves from the banana potato tree, the fifth type of leaf they've tried smoking and the only one to garner any sort of result beyond coughing. Smoking the banana potato leaves has a calming, drowsy effect, making the world seem far away, its complexities charming and harmless.   
  
“Spock is captain,” Kirk says. He's got his one hand folded behind his head, the other holding the lit joint, Sulu and Chekov both curled against him, their hair tickling his cheeks. “I think about that a lot.”  
  
“Do you think he is a good _keptin_?” Chekov asks.   
  
"Sure," Kirk says. "He's such a good person, man." Kirk laughs at himself and takes another drag.  
  
"He won't be as good as you were," Sulu says. "As Captain."  
  
Kirk laughs harder, choking a little and passing the joint to Sulu. "Uh, really?" he says. "That's funny, coming from you."  
  
"Wha – why?"  
  
"'Cause you thought I was a pretty shitty captain," Kirk says, still grinning up at the stars. "If I recall."  
  
"I did not!" Sulu sits up on his elbow, trying not to get distracted by the sight of Chekov taking the joint and sucking on it, because Jesus Christ. Sulu shakes his head clear. "How could you think that?" Sulu asks, his fingers playing along the line of Kirk's jaw. "You saved me."  
  
"Chekov saved you." Kirk is still smiling, but it seems a little forced now. "Us."  
  
" _Keptin_ ," Chekov says in a cough, passing the joint back to Sulu. "Hikaru admired you very much on the _Enterprise_. I did as well. You were better _Keptin_ that Commander Spock, I think." Chekov looks at Kirk seriously and nods, and Kirk bursts into laughter, kissing Chekov's cheeks.   
  
"What the fuck does it matter now?" Kirk says. "We're here for good, and I'm captain of what, exactly? You two?"  
  
"What the fuck are we, chopped liver?" Sulu says, tickling Kirk's side. Kirk laughs and squirms away, and Sulu feels okay for a minute, the feeling rising through him like the birth of a new universe, like it always does when things are easy and the three of them feel irrevocably connected.   
  
"Okay, fine," Kirk says, beaming at Sulu. "If I had to be captain of any two people."  
  
"Yes, but what about the others, like Hikaru said?" Chekov is so high, and Sulu and Kirk snicker, Chekov oblivious to their amusement.   
  
"Uhura and Scotty and Dr. McCoy," Chekov says, like Sulu and Kirk don't know which others he's talking about.   
  
"Aww, Bones." Kirk drapes an arm over his eyes. "Fuckin' Bones. I miss that motherfucker."  
  
"I miss Uhura," Sulu says. "The way she used to put you in your place." He pokes Kirk again, and Kirk moans, his arm still over his face.   
  
"I miss Mr. Scott," Chekov says, pouting. "We would have long talks about his theories and he was very good at drinking games."  
  
"I'm sure they're all doing great," Kirk says, muttering. "Thinking we're dead, blaming me."  
  
"Nobody blames you," Sulu says, though of course they do, Sulu included, occasionally. All of their worst fights are about this. Kirk just scoffs.  
  
They stay on the beach for a long time that night, dazed from smoking and tired, clutching at each other when the cool wind from the ocean blows across their exposed skin. Eventually they stumble to the shelter – home – and collapse into the warmth of their bed, Sulu in the middle, not sure that he's earned it, if it's his turn. He dreams about the bridge on the _Enterprise_ , the clean, friendly spread of the console and the sharp way people spoke to each other there, everyone afraid of being considered unprofessional. He wakes in the middle of the night with the crushing panic that sometimes hits him, and feels like he's forgotten to attend a class or turn off the oven or put on his clothes before marching out to the bridge. He sits up in the dark and listens to Chekov and Kirk breathing evenly, remembering where he is and not feeling particularly comforted.


	5. Chapter 5

The anxiety hardly ever hits him during the day. He gives Kirk fencing lessons and Kirk is actually pretty terrible, but Sulu pretends otherwise, offering him tips and helping him with his form. Since they've started eating better they've all gotten stronger and bigger than they were on the _Enterprise_. Sulu in even better shape than he was at the Academy, when he worked out every day. Chekov's pale skin is sun-kissed now, his freckles not so delicate anymore, his chest still skinny but tight and sculpted; between swimming and running he usually covers around ten miles a day. Kirk spends his mornings chopping firewood and his afternoons fishing and repairing nets, wearing only a pair of pants he's torn into long shorts. His bronzed skin makes him look god-like, makes Sulu want nothing more than to be pushed to the bed and fucked hard by Kirk at the end of the day, and Kirk is always happy to oblige when he catches Sulu staring. Kirk tries to grow a beard at one point, but Sulu and Chekov veto it and threaten to shave it off while he sleeps, so he gets rid of it. Sulu is afraid that they both disliked the sight of Kirk with facial hair because it only made him look even better.  
  
One day, Sulu comes back to the camp with a sack full of herbs for drying and sees Chekov cleaning up the outdoor fire pit, all of his curls cut off, his hair cut short like Kirk's.   
  
"What the fuck?" Sulu says, dropping his bag. He feels like this is some kind of personal attack. Chekov looks up at him obliviously for a moment, then runs a hand through the short spikes of his hair.  
  
"They were making me too hot," Chekov says. He looks like he's afraid Sulu is going to punish him. Sulu scoffs and pretends not to care, picking up his bag.  
  
"Whatever," he mutters. "I liked them." He goes into the shelter with the herbs and finds Kirk inside, rubbing the anti-itch cream Sulu made with plants from the Eastern Desert onto bug bites on his ankle. He smirks at Sulu's betrayed expression.  
  
"Are you having a meltdown about his hair?" Kirk asks. "We knew you would."  
  
"Yeah, congratulations," Sulu mutters. "He looks like you now." Kirk and Chekov have both responded to the summer sun in a similar fashion, their blond hair growing lighter while their skin darkens.  
  
"God forbid," Kirk says, going back to his itch cream.   
  
Sex gets weirder as the nights get hotter, variety favored over the safety of routine. Chekov discovers that he likes to be tied up, and Kirk and Sulu certainly like it, too, the sight of Chekov writhing and begging as they tease him until he sobs. Sulu learns that he likes to be spanked by Kirk, preferably while sucking Chekov's dick, and once he actually comes untouched, just from the burn of Kirk's hand against his ass and the weight of Chekov's cock on his tongue. Kirk lives up to his promise to talk dirty, and he does it for both of them, often involving their titles and eventually segueing into full-on role play games, pretending to punish them on the bridge, which usually involves Chekov or Sulu getting spit-roasted.   
  
There are still a few important and unspoken rules. If Kirk fucks Chekov, he never does it in front of Sulu. Kirk never fucks Sulu unless Chekov is watching or participating. Nobody fucks Kirk, though Sulu suspects Kirk wouldn't mind and might actually want someone to. He keeps himself impenetrable not for his own pride but for Sulu and Chekov's sake. They still need to believe he's the strongest in some way beyond the physical, that he's in charge here. Sometimes, when Sulu is fucking Chekov, Kirk will wordlessly press his slicked cock into Sulu, making Sulu scream and reach back to hold Kirk there. It's Sulu's favorite type of sex, even better than licking Chekov's opened-up body after Sulu has fucked him and filled him, Kirk prepping Sulu as he does it, calling him his dirty boy. Sulu still likes this basic thing best, the three of them locked together, every movement one makes felt in the bodies of the other two, every moan that originates from one of them feeling as if it's been ripped from all three of them.   
  
Sulu wakes up one morning feeling like something is off, and when he rolls onto his back he sees Chekov sitting up in the middle of the bed with his notebook in his lap. Kirk is asleep on Chekov's other side, and Chekov looks distressed, staring into space in the early light of morning.   
  
"Hey," Sulu whispers, and Chekov looks down at him sadly. Sulu pulls at him and Chekov sets the notebook aside, leaning down to prop himself on his elbow. He gives Sulu a shaky smile, smoothing Sulu's messy hair into place.  
  
"What's wrong?" Sulu asks, his heart pounding. Sometimes this place feels like heaven, but the slightest fracture between the three of them could easily make it hell.   
  
"It's my birthday today," Chekov says. "I'm nineteen years old."  
  
"Oh, shit, well. Happy birthday."   
  
Chekov nods, his eyes filling with tears. He lets Sulu pull him to his chest and hide him there, and sobs for awhile, clinging. Sulu just runs his fingers through Chekov's short hair, kisses his forehead and lets him cry.   
  
"You deserve better than this," Sulu whispers, his own eyes filling up. "You're a fucking genius. I know you're bored – you know that if one of us could go back Kirk and I would send you."   
  
He meant that to be comforting, but in hindsight he realizes why it makes Chekov sob harder.   
  
"And if two people could go back, well, I'd fight him to the death to go with you," Sulu says, thinking this horrible sentiment will make Chekov feel better, but of course it just makes him wail miserably, waking Kirk, who rolls over and frowns at them with confusion. He's quickly alert, sitting up.   
  
"What happened?" he asks, and Sulu shakes his head. Kirk wouldn't make him fight to the death. He would give Sulu and Chekov everything without a second thought. He would stay here alone if it meant that Sulu and Chekov would be saved. Sulu would be the one fighting with himself, wanting to stay, wanting to go.   
  
"It's Pavel's birthday," Sulu says, stroking Chekov's back. "He's nineteen years old today."  
  
"Oh." Kirk scratches his head, looking confused. "Hey, Jailbait, don't cry." He squeezes Chekov's trembling shoulder. "We didn't know."  
  
Sulu snorts and rolls his eyes. "You think he's crying because we _forgot his birthday_?"  
  
And this, finally, is the right thing to say, because suddenly Chekov is laughing hard, tipping his face up to smile at Sulu, who kisses Chekov's wet cheeks dry.  
  
To celebrate Chekov's birthday, they ignore their usual chores and swim in the ocean while the tide is mild, the water blue-green and clear. Chekov hangs on Sulu's shoulders and dives off of Kirk's, tries to do handstands and gets knocked over by the waves. They dig for clams on the beach, and Sulu hopes that, at least for the moment, Chekov feels as calm and content as Sulu does, the sun on their backs and sand under their fingernails, Kirk talking cheerfully about how he turned nineteen in a county jail after spending the night there for being drunk and disorderly at a square dance.   
  
"My brother bailed me out," Kirk says, throwing clams into a pail. "Mad as hell, but he bailed me out and drove me to his apartment, where he was living with this chick, I forget her name. She hated me. I used to think Sam hated me, too, but now I know he didn't. He let me clean up at his place and I used that chick's fancy shampoo just to piss her off. Sam took me to a movie for my birthday, or maybe just to get me out of the apartment, and I fell asleep in the theater. Then again, in the car – he had a convertible, and it was a pretty nice day. Sunny." Kirk looks up from digging and laughs at Sulu and Chekov, who are both watching him, listening intently. This is the first Sulu has heard about Kirk's brother since he mentioned that he was dead.   
  
"That was the last time I saw him, actually," Kirk says. "Killed in action a couple of months later. And I thought he was so stupid, you know?" Kirk grins down at the clam in his hands, then stands, turns, and pitches it into the ocean with an angry grunt. Sulu glances at Chekov, who looks just as uncertain about how to respond to this.  
  
"I wish he would have just – disappeared, like me, so I could pretend he was in a place like this," Kirk says, still staring out at the ocean. He licks over his teeth, shrugs, and drops back to the sand. "But, no, not really. I don't wish that."   
  
They bring the clams back to camp and Sulu cleans and boils them while Chekov and Kirk wash in the stream. Sulu can see them from where he's working, Chekov scrubbing Kirk's back for him, leaning over his shoulder to kiss his ear. Sulu never thought he'd find the sight heartwarming instead of heartbreaking, but he grins as he watches Chekov tickle Kirk's side until Kirk looks back at him and smiles.   
  
After lunch, they go into the shelter to hide from the hottest part of the day, their skin already raw and pink from the sun. Chekov lies in the middle on the bed and sighs happily as Kirk and Sulu rub the balm Sulu invented for sunburns over every inch of his skin. Chekov is hard from the rubbing and fragrant with the delicate herbs Sulu used to make the balm smell good, and he stretches out between Sulu and Kirk like an offering, twitching up against their soft touches and arching into their kisses as they compete for the heat of his mouth.   
  
"What do you want for your birthday, Jailbait?" Kirk asks, toying with Chekov's cock, his fingers playing lightly around the head. Chekov whines a little, his eyes fluttering shut.   
  
"Yeah, anything," Sulu says, smirking at Kirk. "We'll do anything you say, right, Captain?"  
  
"Hell yes," Kirk says. He leans down to nibble at Chekov's ear, and Chekov laughs. He chews his lip, looking a little nervous, glancing back and forth between Kirk and Sulu.   
  
"The thing I want," he says, pausing to squirm a bit. "Is a strange thing, I think."  
  
"Well, you know we're entirely opposed to doing anything strange," Sulu says with a snort.  
  
Chekov sighs. "Is embarrassing."   
  
"Yeah, we're total strangers to embarrassing shit, too," Kirk says.  
  
Chekov groans pinches his eyes shut. "Okay," he says. "This thing I want – I want you to say things to me in Russian." He's blushing furiously. Kirk and Sulu laugh.  
  
"That's embarrassing?" Kirk says.   
  
"Well – this thing I want you to say –" Chekov says something in Russian that Sulu doesn't recognize. "It means – little baby." He wilts, checking Sulu and Kirk for reactions.   
  
"We call you 'baby' all the time in English," Sulu says. "It's not so weird to want us to say it in Russian – you know we'll butcher the pronunciation, though."   
  
"Yes, but – I want you to call me your little baby, and – and treat me like this, careful and – very soft, like I am this thing."  
  
"Pavel," Sulu moans, charmed by this. He kisses Chekov softly, nuzzles him.  
  
"You mean, like, no sex?" Kirk says, his hand going still on Chekov's leaking prick. "Like – what, you want to be rocked and – diapered or something?"   
  
"No." Chekov glares at him and Sulu punches Kirk's shoulder, laughing. "I – I want the sex, but I want it very – slow, while you are whispering this thing to me, treating me like I might break."  
  
"God," Sulu says, stroking Chekov's face. "We should always treat you that way, shouldn't we?"  
  
"No, no," Chekov says, rolling his eyes. "I have been afraid to ask because I knew you would think this, Hikaru. I don't always want to be – this little baby. Just sometimes."  
  
Kirk laughs. "Well, that describes you to a tee," he says, pinching Chekov's cheek. "Say the Russian again."   
  
So Chekov teaches Sulu and Kirk how to call him their little baby in Russian, and a few other words that are the equivalents of 'sweetheart' and 'darling.' He's hard, listening to Sulu and Kirk practice, and they're already stroking him softly, like he's their precious, delicate little boy, which is not much of a stretch. The language lesson segues easily into the sex, Kirk and Sulu whispering things in Russian and adding English to the words Chekov taught them: _Does that feel good, sweetheart? Does my little baby want me to touch him here?_ Sulu is hard as hell by the time he pulls Chekov into his lap, guiding Chekov to squat over him as Chekov leans back against Sulu's chest, facing Kirk, who is licking and sucking at Chekov's nipples. Chekov is playing up his baby role, squeaking and whimpering, shivering under their hands. Sulu spends a long time opening Chekov, not pushing in until he can tell Chekov is struggling not to beg for it. When Chekov is seated on his cock Sulu just holds them there, soothing his hands over Chekov's chest while Kirk licks at Chekov's dick, whispering praise against it, calling Chekov a pretty little boy, telling him his dick tastes sweet and clean.  
  
"You hear that, sweetheart?" Sulu whispers in Chekov's ear, kissing him there. "You're our pretty little baby, aren't you?" Sulu is too out of his mind with how good it feels to just sit in Chekov like this while he whimpers softly, can't remember the Russian and doesn't want to ruin the mood. Chekov doesn't seem to mind or notice, his head tipped back onto Sulu's shoulder and his breath coming in shallow pants as Kirk rubs his balls gently.   
  
Chekov moans something in Russian, moving his hips just a bit and sending electric pleasure shooting up Sulu's spine at the friction on his dick.   
  
"Take care of your baby, Hikaru," Chekov whines out. "Fuck your baby."   
  
"Okay, sweetheart, okay." Sulu moves up into Chekov very slowly, and Chekov groans, the shaky smallness leaving his voice. "What do you want your captain to do, baby?" Sulu asks. "He wants to make his little baby feel good, too."   
  
"That's right," Kirk says, sitting back to jerk his own cock for a moment. "You're my baby, too, aren't you, Pavel?" He shoots Sulu a look that pierces him like an arrow through his back, and there's a sharp jab of heat deep in the pit of Sulu's stomach. It's anger, and something else, too.   
  
" _Da, da_ ," Chekov moans, too far gone to grasp the gravity of the question. At least, Sulu hopes that's the case, but maybe it doesn't matter anymore, maybe there is no more gravity, maybe they're all just floating.   
  
"Your good little cabin boy, _Keptin_ ," Chekov breathes out.   
  
_Cabin_ boy? Sulu has definitely never heard that one before. He glowers at Kirk, who grins.   
  
"So what can I do for my cabin boy, hmm?" Kirk asks. He's looking at Sulu when he asks.   
  
"Touch me – here," Chekov says, flushing as he gestures to his nipples. Kirk crawls over and hovers close, pinching at Chekov's little pink nubs while Chekov begins to fuck himself down onto Sulu. Chekov comes as soon as Sulu grabs his cock, crying out and spraying himself all over Kirk's chest. Kirk swipes some come onto his thumb and feeds it to Chekov, who moans as he sucks Kirk clean.  
  
"That's my good boy," Kirk whispers, his eyes darting to Sulu's again. Sulu gives Chekov a hard thrust that makes him shout, then feels bad, because it's Chekov's birthday, and Sulu should be done with jealousy by now.  
  
But he's just really and suddenly and definitely not.   
  
"Does the birthday boy want a bigger cock up his ass?" Sulu asks, the softness gone from his voice. He pulls out of Chekov without warning, and Chekov gasps, stumbling forward and landing against Kirk, who cradles him and narrows his eyes at Sulu.  
  
"Go ahead," Sulu says, sitting back and fisting his cock, his heart pounding. "Fuck your cabin boy, Captain. He deserves a special treat for his birthday."  
  
Chekov turns in Kirk's arms and gives Sulu a betrayed look. Sulu could care less at the moment. He just raises an eyebrow and pumps his cock, nowhere near coming but still hard enough to look as if he might be.   
  
"Hikaru," Kirk says, like he's _warning_ Sulu, and, more than anything, this sets Sulu's chest on fire with rage.  
  
"No, go ahead," Sulu says with a shrug. "I want to watch."  
  
"But I don't want --" Chekov starts to say, his voice small and squeaky again, as if they can slip back into the fantasy.   
  
"Bullshit," Sulu says, laughing. Chekov is clutching at Kirk like he wants to be protected from what Sulu is doing. It makes Sulu want to back down, or pretend he was only joking, but it's too late for that now.   
  
"You're out of line, Lieutenant," Kirk says, hugging Chekov to him. "I think you might need to be punished –"  
  
"Oh, shut the fuck up, Kirk," Sulu says, glaring at him. "You're the one who started this, so why don't you go ahead and finish it? You want him to be yours, too? Fine, take him. I'm not gonna stop you."  
  
Chekov starts crying then, hiding his face against Kirk's neck. Kirk's hardon is sinking and Sulu's is, too. This was definitely not in his plans for today and he wishes it wasn't happening, but he can't pretend it's not eating him up, not the thought of Kirk and Chekov doing things while he's not around, not even the thought of Chekov belonging in part to Kirk just like Sulu does, but the fact that they have their own secret words, names for each other that they've kept from Sulu until now.   
  
"What the fuck's the matter with you?" Kirk shouts as Sulu dresses. Chekov is still crying, still wrapped around Kirk like he never wants to look at Sulu again.  
  
"I don't know," Sulu mutters. "Sorry. I'll go."  
  
He walks out of the shelter and down toward the beach, his head spinning and his heart pounding. He was so sure for so long that things were okay, livable and sustainable and even good, and then suddenly it was as if he had wandered backstage during a play and seen the riggings and the half-dressed actors and the stage hands hauling fake trees. For a moment he thinks he's going to vomit, and he turns when he hears someone running after him, expecting to see Chekov. But it's Kirk, and he doesn't look like he's about to beg Sulu for forgiveness.   
  
"Fucking asshole," Kirk growls, spitting the words out as he grabs the front of Sulu's shirt. He drags Sulu over behind one of the dunes, Sulu cursing and fighting him all the way, but Kirk is stronger, and he throws Sulu down easily. Kirk is barefoot, wearing only his pants, which he hasn't bothered to button. He falls down onto Sulu and pins him, glowering down at him.  
  
"Fuck you!" Sulu shouts, his voice shaking. "You fucked him, behind my back, I never did that with you, never, and you know how many times I wanted to?" He sobs, pinching his eyes shut as he screams his confession. "You wouldn't let me do that to him, you knew I'd give in if you tried but _you_ wouldn't let me, and you let him do it to me, you fucking asshole, you let him do it to me!"  
  
"It's not the same!" Kirk says, lifting Sulu's shoulders off the ground, his fists closed in Sulu's shirt. "It's not the same and you fucking know it."  
  
"Who's idea?" Sulu cries, going limp in Kirk's grip. "Who's idea was it, just tell me, fucking tell me."   
  
"Jesus." Kirk lets go of Sulu's shirt and Sulu flops against the ground. "You fucking know it was mine."  
  
"I hate you, I fucking hate you," Sulu cries.  
  
"Yeah." Kirk's eyes are dry, his face a stoic mask. "That was the idea."   
  
"Jim," Sulu says, sobbing the name out, because he can't be alone right now, Kirk can't leave him, too. Kirk's eyebrows arch up and his mouth falls open. He leans down over Sulu, sheltering him, holding his face. Sulu cries hard against the heat of Kirk's cheeks, his ribs aching and his breath thinning.  
  
"You can't have everything, goddamn you," Kirk says, his voice quiet and uneven.   
  
"I don't want everything," Sulu says. He's calming under Kirk's weight, surrounded by the sun-baked smell of him. "I – I only want two things. You and him. Only two things."  
  
"Look around you, motherfucker," Kirk says. He kisses Sulu's nose and stares down at him sadly. "That's everything."   
  
"I've ruined his life," Sulu says, hot tears still pouring down his cheeks. "Oh, God, Pavel, oh, my poor baby."  
  
"Hey." Kirk sighs and rubs his nose against Sulu's. "I won't have anyone but me taking credit for life-ruining around here."   
  
"Jesus, Jim." Sulu sucks in his breath, trying to stop crying, failing. "I – I." He should stop there, but he doesn't, because Kirk's eyes are blue like the sky back home, and the sky here might be beautiful but it's nothing like the one they knew.  
  
"I just love you so fucking much," Sulu whispers, sobbing out the last word. Kirk looks down at Sulu like Sulu has just put a sword through his chest.  
  
"I know," Kirk says. He sighs and settles onto Sulu more heavily, his elbows framing Sulu's head. "But you love him more, Hikaru. Whether you can see that or not."  
  
"You fucking idiot." Sulu needs to stop sobbing before he breaks a rib, but it feels so good to fall to pieces for Kirk. "There is no more or less. That's the worst part. There isn't some – line drawn inside me, you on one side and him on the other. There's nothing like that."   
  
"Baby," Kirk says, shaking his head. He kisses Sulu's eyebrows, his forehead, his cheeks. "Just shut up, okay? Don't ever tell me anything like that again."  
  
Kirk kisses Sulu deeply, preventing him from responding. Sulu doesn't know what he would have said, anyway. He pushes his choppy breath into Kirk's mouth, wanting to crawl inside him and hide, to disappear into Kirk's chest and never return. But then who would take care of Chekov? Sulu's eyes flutter open. He wants Kirk inside him, right now, here on the dune, the sky going dark as a late afternoon rainstorm rolls in, but Sulu promised himself that he would never do that without Chekov, and he won't, not now, not ever.  
  
Kirk goes for a walk and Sulu goes back to the shelter. Chekov is sitting by the outdoor fire pit, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. There's thunder rumbling overhead, and Sulu prays that Kirk won't go far. When Chekov hears Sulu approaching he looks up, his face splotchy from crying, and Sulu expects him to glower and curse and tell him to get away, but for some reason Chekov just sobs and runs to Sulu, throwing his arms around him.  
  
"Hikaru, please, I'm so sorry!" he cries. The blanket falls away and Chekov is naked beneath it, shivering in the wind from the coming storm as he clings. "Please, please, forgive me, Hikaru, I love you, I am so weak, I ruin everything!"   
  
"Pavel – what –"  
  
"I was jealous of him," Chekov says, lifting his tear-streaked face to Sulu's. "I wanted you to have nothing with him that I didn't have also, and it felt like revenge on you, Hikaru, oh, please, I'm so sorry." Chekov cries against Sulu's neck, and Sulu holds him, shaking his head.  
  
"Pavel, you don't have to –"  
  
"Sometimes I hate him so much," Chekov cries. "But he is so kind to me, so good not to take you away from me forever."  
  
"Hey!" Sulu pulls Chekov's face back and looks down at him, touching the tip of his nose to Chekov's. "No one is ever taking me away from you. Not him, not anyone."   
  
Chekov sobs, and Sulu kisses him, grabs the fallen blanket and wraps it around Chekov's trembling body. He lifts Chekov into his arms and takes him into the shelter, cradles him in the bed and whispers reassurances as the rain begins outside. And he knows, as Chekov's sweet face clears of tears and he presses soft kisses to Sulu's lips, why Kirk told him to shut up. There is a line, though it doesn't measure who Sulu loves more and who he loves less. There's a line, and Chekov will always be above it, Kirk always below it. As Chekov dozes on Sulu's chest, the rain pounding the roof like it did the day all of this began, Sulu knows that this will never change, and he hates that Kirk knows it, too.  
  
*  
  
Sulu falls asleep, exhausted by emotion and sex and the sun, wrapped cozily around Chekov. When he wakes up it's dark, still raining hard, and Kirk is nowhere to be found. He pulls himself from the warmth of the bedsheets and Chekov's body and opens the door of the shelter, but Kirk isn't sitting by the outdoor fire pit or even huddled by the supply trunk.   
  
"Kirk!" Sulu shouts into the storm, and he's answered only by the low rumble of thunder in the distance, somewhere over by the mountains. He turns back to Chekov and sees him sitting up, rubbing his eyes.  
  
"Hikaru?" Chekov mumbles. "Where is _Keptin_?"   
  
"He's – we need to look for him." Sulu feels like he did on the day his family dog disappeared, when he was ten years old. He'd known, before they found Benny's body by the side of the road ten miles away, that something terrible had happened, that things would not be okay.   
  
They get flashlights, supplies from the replicator that they haven't used as much as they once thought they would, don rain gear and head out to look for Kirk. Sulu's heart is pounding, his mind reeling, trying to wrap around the idea that Kirk might be gone. It would smash Sulu and Chekov to pieces, to nothing, if they lost him. Sulu can't imagine a world without Kirk's generous smiles and warm body pressed against his, Kirk making Chekov giggle and Sulu gasp, Kirk with his jokes and his tragic history, Kirk who is one of the loves of Sulu's life. Sulu is trying not to lose his composure by the time they finally find Kirk on the beach, curled up with his face pressed to his bent knees, being pelted with rain.  
  
"Kirk!" Sulu shouts, understanding now why Kirk seemed to want to kill him when he was sick. His worry is quickly swallowed up by furious anger. He runs forward and grabs Kirk's elbows, shaking him until Kirk finally lifts his head. His skin is cold and he's shivering hard, looking at Sulu like he's not sure where he is.  
  
"Did I fall asleep?" Kirk asks, the words trembling out of him.   
  
"Get up," Sulu says, yanking Kirk up from the sand. Chekov is quickly there to brace Kirk against him, and they walk Kirk along the beach until Kirk laughs and collapses. Sulu has to carry him the rest of the way, and it's not easy, especially with the rain blasting them, weighing them down.  
  
"I just figured," Kirk mumbles against Sulu's chest, smiling crazily. "It wasn't such a good idea. Last time. When I interrupted. You know."   
  
"You shut up, Captain," Sulu says, his breath coming in hard pants as he struggles to get Kirk home. "Just shut up."  
  
When they get back to shelter, Sulu builds a fire while Chekov strips Kirk of his wet clothes. They both dry Kirk frantically with towels before piling blankets onto him, dragging the mat closer to the fire pit. It's not cold inside the shelter, but Kirk's skin is icy and pallid, and he's shaking so hard, his eyes closed.   
  
"We should undress," Sulu says, thinking of the time when this happened to Chekov. They fling off their wet clothes and hurry to get under the blankets with Kirk, wrapping themselves around his frigid body. Sulu moans with terrified worry at Kirk's listlessness, nudging his nose against Kirk's jaw and knowing that this is his fault. Kirk's breath is shallow, and his body is still wrecking itself with tremors.  
  
"How long was he out there?" Chekov asks, already crying, clutching at Kirk like he's a raft in an unfriendly ocean.   
  
"I don't know," Sulu says. "Shit. Shit. Captain?" he whispers in Kirk's ear. "Kirk? Jim? Please, oh, fuck, please."  
  
" _Keptin_ ," Chekov cries, rubbing his face against Kirk's neck.   
  
They keep the fire burning strongly, both of them sweating as they huddle around Kirk, whose skin goes from freezing to clammy and then feverish. Sulu spends the night dabbing Kirk's forehead with a cool washcloth and whispering to him, begging him not to do this, to come back. In the morning, Chekov takes over, and Sulu goes out into the humid dawn to make a pot of weak broth and to freshen the basin water in the stream. He trips on the way back to the shelter, skins his knees and spills the water, and goes back to the stream, cursing and sniffling and hating himself. He knew the scene he made would ruin everything, but he didn't think Kirk would actually die because of his selfishness.  
  
They get Kirk awake enough to be guided into drinking some of the broth and then some water. Kirk is limp in Chekov's grip as Sulu spoons soup between his lips, and he starts coughing heavily halfway through the meal. It's a deep, rattling cough and feels like ice in Sulu's stomach every time he hears it. It's not the kind of thing they are equipped to heal.   
  
It rains again that afternoon, and the whole shelter feels damp and sickly. Chekov passes out on the other side of the fire pit, by the washing basin, and sleeps curled up on the floor, his mouth hanging open. Sulu tries to keep himself awake, still mopping Kirk's forehead and making him drink some water every hour or so. Sometimes Kirk fights his eyes open and stares at Sulu deliriously, and Sulu holds his face, trying to get him to stay.  
  
"Why'd you have to do that?" Sulu whispers, tangling his legs through Kirk's under the blankets. Kirk is unresponsive, doesn't squeeze his thighs around Sulu's like he usually does, doesn't do anything but stare out at Sulu like he's looking through ten thousand vast dimensions and still seeing him on the other end.   
  
"I mean, I know why," Sulu says. "And I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, I'm so sorry. I love you, I don't know what to do, I just. I don't know what to do."   
  
Kirk is bedridden for three seemingly endless days, hacking up his lungs with coughing, greenish and thin and sweating away pounds of water weight by the hour. Sulu and Chekov spend the hottest parts of the day fanning him, the door of the shelter open wide, an occasional cool breeze from the ocean reaching them. Mostly the days just feel stolid and thick, the shelter clogged with the smell of sickness, of death. Sulu sleeps in feverish cat naps, waking in a panic and checking Kirk's pulse. Kirk's breath is ragged and painful to hear, like a broken radiator fighting out its last days. Chekov wakes up screaming with nightmares and Sulu barely has the energy to comfort him. They lie together and stare at Kirk, not daring to speak, hardly eating except to finish the broth that Kirk can't get down.   
  
In a way, Sulu loves Chekov more than he ever has as they helplessly watch Kirk fade away. Chekov has bags under his eyes and Sulu is sure that he does, too. He loves Chekov for understanding that he shouldn't say anything, for helping Kirk drink and piss and for falling asleep against the wall only to wake up with a jerk and get back to fanning him with a palm leaf. Sulu sees, starkly now, the many ways he's failed to take care of both of them. How he's hurt them both badly. He falls asleep asking imaginary, indifferent forces to take him instead of Kirk. He holds Kirk's hand in his sleep, Chekov slumped onto his back, his face between Sulu's shoulder blades. The worst part is that Chekov probably thinks this is all his fault, and is probably asking the universe for the same things.   
  
_Don't listen to him_ , Sulu thinks, just in case. _He doesn't know what he's talking about._  
  
The weather wakes Sulu up one morning, cooler than it has been in awhile, and the air smells different, more like it did when they first crashed here almost a year ago. Sulu sits up on an elbow and Chekov rolls off his back, still asleep. Sulu gropes for Kirk's hand under the blankets and can't find it. Kirk is staring up at the ceiling, and Sulu sucks in a sharp breath, certain for a moment that he's dead. Kirk coughs weakly and looks over at him, his eyes wet and puffy with disuse.  
  
"Hey," Kirk says in a rasping whisper. He's touching his face, rubbing his shaking fingers through the beard that has grown there. "Hikaru. Could you give me a shave?"  
  
"Fuck," Sulu whispers, pressing his face to Kirk's scratchy cheek. This is the first time Kirk has spoken since they found him on the beach, and the first time he's looked halfway alive in two days. "Oh, please, oh. Don't go away again. I'll do anything, just don't go."  
  
"Baby." Kirk laughs a little, wincing as it turns into a cough. He stares up at Sulu with his tired, watery eyes. "I was here the whole time."  
  
Sulu wakes Chekov, not wanting him to miss the start of what he prays is Kirk's recovery. Chekov laughs with exhausted relief and dozes against Kirk's chest while Kirk leans back against Sulu, propped up for his shave. Sulu's hands are shaking as he pats the foamy, minty-smelling stuff he made for Kirk's shaves on Kirk's hollowed cheeks. He takes a long time shaving him, moving the razor carefully, kissing Kirk's sideburns and sighing in his ears. Kirk moans and tips his chin as Sulu works, rubbing a weak hand over Chekov's back.  
  
" _Keptin, Keptin_ ," Chekov moans deliriously, waking at intervals to nuzzle Kirk's chest before dropping back to sleep again. Kirk laughs a little, his eyes closed as Sulu finishes shaving him.   
  
"Jailbait seems a little out of it," Kirk says, his voice still a pained little croak, but he sounds like himself, like he was always stronger than Sulu gave him credit for.   
  
"He's just glad you're okay," Sulu says. "To put it mildly." He dumps the razor into the basin and hugs Kirk's shoulders, kissing his smooth, soapy cheeks.   
  
"'Course I'm okay," Kirk mumbles, half-asleep on Sulu's shoulder. Sulu dips a rag in the basin and cleans the remaining soap from Kirk's face, then dries his cheeks.   
  
"Want a sponge bath?" Sulu asks, and Kirk snorts.   
  
"Sure, man," Kirk says. "Just let me sleep for ten years first."  
  
"Fuck no," Sulu says. "Don't – don't. Don't leave me." He says the last part quietly, but Chekov hears, lifting his head to blink up at Kirk and Sulu sleepily.  
  
" _Keptin_ ," Chekov says sternly, reaching up to pat Kirk's smooth cheeks. "You have done enough sleeping, I think."   
  
They keep Kirk awake for another couple of hours, feeding him broth and cleaning his sweaty skin. Sulu changes the blankets on the bed while Chekov helps Kirk into a clean pair of boxer shorts. Sulu can see now that Kirk is irritated by the attention, and it's a good sign, the best one they could be offered. Kirk falls asleep on clean sheets and Sulu takes the dirty ones outside to wash and hang. The heat of the day is not as oppressive as it has been, and there's a new, strong wind moving the trees over the valley, coming down from the mountain. He thinks of another winter coming and isn't sure how he feels about it. He supposes it doesn't really matter how he feels. Winter will come, and they will be here to see it arrive. This will happen again and again, year after year, if they're lucky. He jogs back into the shelter when the cleaned sheets are hanging on the laundry lines and blowing in the breeze. Chekov is sound asleep beside Kirk on the bed, the blankets pushed down to the end of the mat, both of them wearing only their underwear. They're turned toward each other, Chekov's hands curled under his chin and Kirk's flopped against the mat, their foreheads almost touching on the pillow but not quite. Sulu sits against the wall and watches them for awhile. He leaves the shelter door open, listening to the wind through the trees and the distant pound of the waves, and thinks about what to make for dinner.   
  
He doesn't deserve any of this and knows there's no rhyme or reason to why he's gotten it anyway. All he can do is work on being grateful and be fairly certain that he never will be, not enough, not properly. It's a failure on his part, but maybe it's inevitable, too. There is simply no amount of gratitude that would suffice for things like this: the two of them sleeping peacefully, forgiving him constantly, and the sudden softness in the air, as if the planet has forgiven him, too.  
  
*  
  
Kirk is resilient, as they should have known he would be. He gains his weight back and fights away the last of his cough, even gets better at fencing and beats Chekov in races across the lagoon a few times. The three of them take to having bonfires on the beach as the weather gets cooler but still not cold. They smoke banana tree leaves, roast meat and vegetables on sticks, and talk about improvements that need to be made on the shelter before winter comes. They can already see snow collecting on the tallest, most distant mountains.   
  
They're careful with each other, Sulu most of all. They're back to rarely separating, doing chores together and going for walks without leaving anybody behind, and they work very slowly up to sex, spending almost two weeks just petting each other in bed, kissing and rubbing soft fingers over skin. When they finally do it, Sulu is in Kirk's lap, leaning back onto him so that Chekov can balance in Sulu's lap, facing both of them, kissing Kirk over Sulu's shoulder as he bounces on Sulu's cock. Sulu comes first, overwhelmed by the feeling of being pressed between them, their hands all over him and their bodies closed so perfectly around and into his, and this sets Chekov off, then finally Kirk, who groans and crushes them both against him as he pumps Sulu full. Afterward, Sulu sleeps well for the first time since Kirk got sick, and wakes up to the feeling of someone tickling fingers through his hair. He's almost afraid to open his eyes and discover which of them is stroking him while he sleeps, and when he realizes it's just the wind through the open window he laughs at himself and pulls the blankets up over his shoulder.   
  
He wakes up one morning to the sound of Kirk and Chekov whispering to each other. Sulu looks over at them, drowsy and jealous and resigned. They both roll toward him, Kirk wrapping around Chekov's back and resting his chin on Chekov's shoulder. They're grinning like they've got a joke they can't wait to tell Sulu, both looking sweet. Chekov's curls have started to grow out again, and Kirk has a few freckles across his nose now, too.  
  
"Well, happy anniversary, Lieutenant," Kirk says. "We've been here for a year today."   
  
"Jesus." Sulu scoots over to them and kisses Chekov while Kirk scratches his fingers through Sulu's messy hair. "Feels like it's been about ten years, you know? But it went by kind of fast, too."  
  
"Chekov and I came up with a theory," Kirk says. He bites at Chekov's neck and Chekov giggles. It's a big improvement over Chekov's sobbing fit on the morning of his birthday.   
  
"A theory?" Sulu yawns against Chekov's cheek. He hopes they'll want to stay in bed for most of the day to celebrate. It's chilly outside the blankets and Chekov is already groping between Sulu's legs, stroking his morning wood.  
  
"Yeah," Kirk says. "We didn't actually crash, we got beamed back to the ship, but it was some kind of crazy emergency beaming technology that Scotty invented on the spot, so it put us all in comas, and for some reason we started having the same dream about this planet."  
  
"Maybe Scotty invented the dream for us," Chekov says.   
  
"Maybe, but there would probably be more readily available booze if that were true," Kirk says.   
  
"Waterfalls of whiskey," Sulu says, grinning and pushing himself into Chekov's hand.   
  
"And probably less nature, more ... engines?" Kirk says.   
  
They have sleepy sex, Chekov on his back and Kirk poured along Sulu's, doing most of the work, fucking Sulu down into Chekov slow enough to make Chekov cry and beg. When they're through they lie in a heap, Sulu wrapped around Chekov and Kirk spilled onto Sulu's back, kissing his neck. They fall asleep like this for a few hours, then wake and dress to walk to the beach together and check the nets. Sulu supposes it's as good as any anniversary he's had, the sun filtered through puffy, grayish clouds and the stinging wind off the ocean waking him fully. He finds a new, neon-pink, sponge-like creature floating around in one of the tide pools, and the three of them gather around and observe its behavior like little boys who've trapped a bug. Kirk names it the Inaugural Year Sponge.  
  
That night, Sulu feels like some sort of speech should be made, or as if there should at least be some historically good sex, but they're all tired, and Sulu and Chekov just sidle up to Kirk, because it's his turn to be in the middle. Chekov drops to sleep on Kirk's shoulder easily, and Kirk and Sulu watch him twitch in his sleep, grinning at each other when he whimpers.   
  
"You know what he said to me that first day after we crashed here?" Sulu says, whispering. Kirk raises his eyebrows. "He said, 'When we get back to the ship, I think I want to sleep in your bed.' Blushing and batting his eyelashes, the whole nine yards. It was the 'I think' that got me more than anything." Sulu leans down to kiss the tip of Chekov's nose very softly, not wanting to wake him.   
  
"Look at that sweet face," Kirk says. "Little baby. Breaks my heart that he's wasted on us."  
  
"I know," Sulu says. "Sometimes I think he should have a matching little porcelain doll girlfriend, or boyfriend, whatever, just someone small and wide-eyed and perfect like him."  
  
"I don't think I even noticed him on the bridge during that first mission until he started tapping on my shoulder and buzzing in my ear like a little gnat," Kirk says, smirking. "'Keptin, Keptin, they are creating a seeng-you-lar-eety!"  
  
Sulu laughs and rests his head on Kirk's shoulder. "We should add singularity to the list."   
  
"That was the day I fell in love with you, by the way," Kirk says, still looking at Chekov, still smiling with a distant, hard-earned calm. "In case you were wondering."  
  
"Why, though?" Sulu kisses the soft skin under Kirk's jaw. "You didn't even know me, really."  
  
"I think it was the way you were like, 'Fencing,' and you didn't even seem embarrassed." Kirk laughs. "I figured out why pretty quickly, but that was the cutest thing. Just 'Fencing,' no apology or explanation. I thought, Jesus, look at this kid. He's about to die and he's smiling and all proud that he knows how to fence."  
  
"Well." Sulu kisses Kirk's jaw again, his heart beating faster, eyes stinging just a bit. "I guess I showed you."  
  
"Yeah, I guess so. And then, you know, there was the way you felt when I caught you. I'd never wanted anything more in my life, not the way I wanted to catch you right then. It didn't matter that I didn't know you. You were this – goal, sailing away from me, the only thing that mattered, and then I got you, wham, you were so solid, and I thought, okay, I've done it, now if I just never let him go, hold on as hard as I can, everything will be alright."  
  
"Then your chute broke," Sulu says, laughing.   
  
"Yeah, that happened." Kirk's voice is softer now, but Sulu can still hear his smile. "But then Chekov came along."   
  
"It's weird how that happened," Sulu says, smoothing Chekov's curls down. "And then this."  
  
"Best moment of my life, I think," Kirk says. "Hitting that platform with you. It was just so pure, man. There was nothing there but relief, and you thanked me, and I thought—" Kirk's voice chokes away for a moment, and he laughs. "I had this moment where I felt like we'd won. Then Vulcan imploded, and, you know. The whole thing."  
  
"The whole thing," Sulu says. He kisses Kirk's neck and then buries his face there. Kirk's pulse is pounding pretty hard. Sulu thinks he must have been waiting to say all of that for a pretty long time.   
  
"It's not like I want to be in love with you," Kirk says, pushing his fingers into Sulu's hair. "Mostly you just piss me off."  
  
Sulu grins and gives Kirk's waist a squeeze, figures that's enough said, that they should sleep now. Kirk's arm closes around Sulu's shoulders and he lets out a deep breath, his pulse steadying against Sulu's cheek. Sulu thinks about the first night they spent on this planet, a year ago. Kirk had loved him even then.   
  
Sulu dreams about falling, crashing, and scrambling up from the ground to look for Chekov and Kirk, but they're gone. He forces himself awake with a jerk and sits up in the dark to take inventory of them, touching Chekov's hair and then Kirk's. He can't get back to sleep, so he lies there and watches them for awhile, wondering what will become of them after another year in this place.  
  



	6. Chapter 6

He doesn't get to find out. Two months later, Chekov suddenly starts working on the communicator again. He has some kind of breakthrough just as winter begins to turn bitter, and they all sit in silence in the shelter one night as Chekov makes a call out to a Federation outpost.  
  
"This is Captain James T. Kirk of the _U.S.S. Enterprise_ ," Kirk says, taking over as Chekov's hand trembles around the communicator, which is crackling with a weak signal. "Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu and Ensign Pavel Chekov and I have been marooned on an unknown planet in the Lorentzian galaxy for approximately fourteen months. Outpost, do you copy?"  
  
"Affirmative," a voice that sounds almost bored returns. "Tracking your signal now, Captain Kirk."  
  
Sulu and Chekov exchange looks of bewilderment, but Kirk is calm and serious, back in Captain mode. He doesn't look at either of them, just stares at the communicator until the officer at the outpost informs them that a Federation ship has been sent to the Lorentzian galaxy and they should prepare to warp aboard it within the next five or six days.   
  
It's five days, and they are the hardest of Sulu's life. They stay close to the camp, dazed at the thought of leaving, and they don't talk much, except to wonder if this is really happening and laugh nervously. Kirk starts distancing himself little by little, pulling away from them at night, smiling when he once would have kissed their foreheads. Every time Sulu turns around he bumps into Chekov, who never leaves his side, as if he thinks Sulu might sneak away from him at the last moment. They clean up the camp like they're expecting company and go back to eating only potato bananas. Sulu pulls the nets from the tide pools, folds them and puts them in the outdoor trunk. Chekov packs a bag with the things he wants to take with him: the clumsy wooden chess board and pieces that Sulu made for him, the notebooks with their maps and observations and games of hang man, some shells from the beach. Sulu wishes it was warm enough to swim in the lagoon one last time, and walks there to sit in the meadow where he took Chekov's virginity. He stays there for almost an hour, his mind fuzzy and unable to settle on a single anxiety, all of them mixing together in an overwhelming jumble that he doesn't have the energy to try and untangle. He can't imagine returning to the _Enterprise_ , sitting in his pilot's chair, having a tearful reunion with his parents via video link. He can't imagine never being in this meadow again, never waking up to this planet's sun, Kirk and Chekov wrapped around him, both of them moaning sleepily when he shifts between them.  
  
"We should talk," Sulu finally says, on their last night in camp. They're all dressed and lying on their backs in bed, Chekov in the middle. They're expecting the call to beam up any minute, hearts pounding.   
  
Kirk sighs heavily. "Hikaru," he says.   
  
"What?" Sulu sits up on his elbow and looks over Chekov at Kirk, who is avoiding Sulu's eyes, staring at the ceiling. Chekov looks so nervous, and has ever since they made contact with the Federation.   
  
"I don't – I mean, what do you want to talk about?" Kirk asks, finally looking at him. He's so closed-off now, and Sulu wants to pummel him, shake his defensive attitude loose.   
  
"Are you going to pretend like you suddenly don't have feelings for us?" Sulu asks, blushing. Already, they're back in the real world, where statements like that feel ridiculous. "When we're back? Are you going to pretend this never happened?"  
  
Kirk scoffs, narrowing his eyes. "Are you?" he asks.  
  
"I don't want to." Sulu glances at Chekov. "I don't – I don't know what to do."  
  
"And you think I do?" Kirk rubs his hands over his face.   
  
"Pavel," Sulu says, and Chekov goes stiff, staring up at him. "What do you want to do?"  
  
"I – I –"  
  
"Don't put him on the spot like that!" Kirk barks. "Hikaru, we're not going to come up with a plan and stick to it, okay? We're just going to have to see what happens."  
  
"Why are you acting like this?" Sulu shouts back. "Because you're fucking terrified to go back? To find out how we're going to treat you up there? 'Cause that's what I think."  
  
"Fuck you," Kirk says, sitting up a little, making Chekov flinch and cower as Kirk leans over him to glower at Sulu. "That's all really fucking easy for you to say, Hikaru."  
  
"Quit pretending like you don't matter to me!" Sulu says. "It's fucking immature and stupid and I'm sick of it."   
  
"Oh, I know I matter to you," Kirk says. "I know you like to have not one but two people worshiping you and that you're panicked at the thought of anything less."  
  
" _Keptin_ ," Chekov says, his lips trembling. He touches Kirk's chest, and Kirk glares down at him, his face softening when he sees Chekov's terrified expression. "Please," Chekov whispers.   
  
"Please what?" Kirk grabs a handful of Chekov's shirt and pulls Chekov's face up to his. "What do _you_ want, Pavel? You want to keep sharing him with me when you don't have to? You want to move into the Captain's quarters with me and him?"  
  
"I –" Chekov's face pinches up with tears and Sulu reaches for him but Kirk is already cradling him, petting him, his eyes smashed shut and his face pressed to the side of Chekov's head as Chekov cries.   
  
"Sorry, sorry," Kirk whispers, sitting up to rock Chekov in his arms. "Oh – I – I don't know, I don't know how to go back."   
  
"We don't have to figure it all out right now," Sulu says. He puts his arms around both of them and holds them as tightly as he can. "I just – Kirk. These last days. I miss you."   
  
Kirk sighs deeply and reaches around Chekov to squeeze Sulu's shoulder. When the call comes from the crackling communicator, they don't grab for it immediately. Sulu has never been more frightened of anything in his life, and he turns away from the communicator like it's a bomb. He imagines the welcome they'll receive on the _Enterprise_ , the cheers and embraces of their old friends, people who will feel like strangers. He holds on tight for as long as he can, and it's Chekov, oddly enough, who breaks away first and reaches for the communicator.   
  
*  
  
Things are simple at first, no real decisions to be made. Endless tests in sick bay, countless reunions with crew mates, nightly video calls with their families for the first week. Sulu doesn't see Chekov or Kirk much, sleeps alone in his quarters with the help of drugs McCoy administers in order to reacclimate him to a non-solar sleep schedule. After three days back, he begins writing his report about the year he spent on planet 005-YUL, as the Federation has labeled it. He doesn't mention the name they invented for it, or anything of a personal nature. He writes about the vegetation and the animal life, the landscape, the slippery texture of the water in the ocean and the color of the sand on the beach. He knows that he doesn't need to worry about Kirk or Chekov mentioning anything about the sex, the bed, their life under the blankets or the things that were said. He trusts them, and knows that they wouldn't want anyone finding out, either.   
  
It's so difficult to get reaccustomed to the practical details of life aboard the ship that Sulu doesn't even think about his emotional well-being for the first few weeks. The replicators seem like fairy tale technology, limitlessly spitting out toothpaste and hot pizza and fresh pairs of socks. The ship's smooth, white surfaces seem eerie, the sonic showers uncomfortable, the announcements that burst forth from hidden loudspeakers frightening. Sulu undergoes psychological and competency testing and passes both. After a month aboard the _Enterprise_ , he's allowed to return to service.   
  
He's spent some time with Chekov, eating together in the mess, and they've sent each other PADD messages about the testing, how insulting some of the questions are. It's still strange to see him on the bridge, and they exchange a tight smile at the conn. Spock is still Captain, though Sulu has heard rumors that Kirk is doing fine. He's seen Kirk in the testing areas and while waiting for checkups at sick bay. They smile at each other, touch each other's shoulders and move on. Kirk seems okay, even good. It just takes a few more days to be reinstated as Captain than it does to resume a navigation or pilot position.   
  
"Want to come back to my room after our shift?" Sulu asks Chekov at lunch, his heart pounding as he looks up at Chekov from across the table. Chekov is holding his tuna salad sandwich with two hands, looking at Sulu with wide-eyed surprise. He swallows and smiles widely.  
  
" _Da_ ," he says, his eyes shining with tears for a moment before he blinks them away. "That would be nice, Hikaru."   
  
They spend the evening lying in Sulu's bed, fully clothed, kissing and whispering to each other. Mostly they talk about Kirk, wondering how he's doing. Their hands shake when they stroke each other's cheeks, and they laugh a lot, nervous and giddy, brushing their noses together and sighing with relief. Whatever happens, they have this. It's not going anywhere.  
  
Kirk's return to the bridge is met with thunderous applause. Sulu and Chekov clap louder than anyone, on their feet for him. He laughs, eyes sparkling and his gait carefree, like he's just come back from vacation. As Sulu watches him make his rounds, giving everyone his trademark iron handshake, he wonders for the first time if Kirk needs them at all anymore, here in the real world.  
  
"Ensign," Kirk says to Chekov when he's finally made his way down to the console.   
  
"Keptin," Chekov says, his face blazing. He yelps with surprise when Kirk pulls him in for a hug instead of a handshake, and everyone on the bridge laughs and claps. Sulu does, too, his cheeks aching with the strain of his fake smile. He's terrified to look Kirk in the face here on the bridge. Kirk is still Sulu's captain, and, God, the things they said to each other, did to each other, the way it all got so out of hand. That's what it feels like, here in the real world, everyone's eyes on them as Kirk turns from Chekov to smile at Sulu: like something in the distant past that just got way out of hand. Sulu bites his tongue hard to keep from completely losing his shit.  
  
"Lieutenant," Kirk says, grinning and clapping Sulu's shoulder. Kirk turns to address the bridge, his arm sliding around Sulu. "I'll have you guys know," he says, and Sulu's heart rate skyrockets. "That the Lieutenant here makes a mean alien boar stew."  
  
Everyone laughs, except Sulu, who forgets to, then remembers too late, pushing out an awkward bark. Kirk winks at him and heads for his chair. He makes a big production of sitting down in it, and everyone laughs again.   
  
"Alright, folks," Kirk says, crossing his legs and looking up at the view screen. "Let's get back to work, huh?"  
  
Chekov follows Sulu to his room after their shift, and they take their uniform trousers off so they can tangle their bare legs together on the bed. One step at a time. Chekov hides his face in Sulu's chest while Sulu sneaks his hand up under Chekov's shirt and rubs his back.   
  
"I love you," Chekov says, and it sounds like one of the questions the analysts asked them when they got back, to gauge their sanity.   
  
"Love you more than anything," Sulu says, running his fingertips over Chekov's skin, feeling his goosebumps.  
  
"Don't say that," Chekov says.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Chekov shrugs. "I don't know."   
  
"You think I love Kirk more than you? Or as much? Who am I here with now, Pavel?"  
  
Chekov looks up at him and frowns. "You pretended to love him, then," he says. "That is worse, Hikaru."  
  
"I did not pretend. I did love him. I do. God, I'm fucking sick of that word! It's not some fucking – diagnosis. It's not this state that exists or doesn't. There's a lot – there are complications." Sulu groans and rolls onto his back. Chekov rests his head on Sulu's chest and pushes his leg across Sulu's waist.  
  
"I know this," Chekov says. "This is why I object to you saying you love me more than anything, Hikaru. The lack of practical measurement."  
  
Sulu snorts and covers his face with his hand.   
  
"Pavel," he says. "That's different. It's true, what I said. More than anything."  
  
Chekov curses in Russian and gives Sulu an irritable little hump.   
  
"Your rules make no sense," Chekov says.   
  
"Yes. I agree. Therein lies the problem. Or – there isn't a problem! Not really. Everything's fine."  
  
"I hate how he is on the bridge," Chekov says, his hand curling into a fist on Sulu's chest.  
  
"Yeah. I know."  
  
"He's so – I don't know the word in English."  
  
"Phony?"   
  
"Inauthentic."   
  
Sulu grins sadly, because if Kirk were here, well. 'Een-oh-sen-tick' totally would have made the list.  
  
"That's the thing about Kirk, though," Sulu says. "That shit's sincere, even when it's corny. He really loves being that guy, making everyone feel comfortable, telling people what they want to hear. Hell, he did it for us."  
  
"Maybe you are right," Chekov says. He clings tightly for a moment, moaning. "Hikaru, oh. I do love you more than anything, I do."   
  
"I know." Sulu kisses Chekov's curls. "We're okay. Me and you."   
  
"Yes, yes. And the _keptin_ , too. So many people love him."  
  
"It's true."  
  
They lie there for awhile having their separate worries, Sulu stroking Chekov and Chekov clinging like any minute someone is going to come storming in and rip Sulu away from him. They fall asleep in their uniform shirts and boxer shorts, and in the middle of the night Sulu wakes up confused, trying to figure out which season he's living through now.  
  
*  
  
Time passes. Kirk is neither distant nor available. He's busy, as he always was, before. He's stern with Sulu on the bridge, barking orders when they're under pressure. With Chekov he's a little softer, more prone to joking. He sits with them in the mess sometimes, always attended by Bones or Spock, Scotty showing up to sit with Chekov, Uhura coming over to tell Sulu about something that a yeoman did to annoy her, asking him if he thinks it was intentional. The endless questions about their time on 005-YUL dry up, along with the jokes about what it was like to have the captain around to give them orders nonstop for a year. Kirk invites Sulu and Chekov to his poker nights, and they usually accept, Sulu always drinking way too much and needing to be carried home by Chekov. Word gets out that Sulu and Chekov are together now, and when people ask if it happened while they were marooned together, they say yes, because this seems like a safer answer than the truth. Better that no one thinks there were any feelings that existed before the crash.   
  
Sulu has trouble sleeping and drinks more than he ever has before. Chekov goes for long runs and Sulu spends time in the greenhouse, trying not to think about Kirk, all the things he misses, the scratch of Kirk's stubble in the morning and the way his eyes wrinkled at the corners when he laughed at Sulu's jokes. That still happens, sometimes, on poker nights when they're both drinking – Kirk usually gets wasted, too, and by the end of the night they're falling onto each other, laughing. But it's not the same as making Kirk turn back to laugh as he walked ahead of Sulu on the beach. It's not the same as being able to kiss him and crawl into his lap when he laughs hard, having Kirk's strong arms slide around his waist, that smile pressed to his neck. Sulu misses having Kirk inside him, and collapsing beside him afterward. Sex with Chekov is special, different, and it's enough, whispering _baby_ and making Chekov shudder happily, holding him and petting him to sleep afterward. It's more than just _enough_ , but Sulu still misses Kirk. He even misses seeing Kirk hold Chekov, has fond memories of Kirk tackling Chekov with kisses and carefully brushing the stray hairs from Chekov's bare shoulders after giving his curls a trim.   
  
It's not ruining Sulu's life, all this nostalgia. It's just there, always there. If Chekov sees it on him he pretends not to notice. Sometimes he smiles at Sulu sadly, as if he knows what Sulu is thinking. Sulu isn't sure if he wants Chekov to know or to be oblivious. Both have their downsides.  
  
They don't get invited on away missions anymore, and neither of them complains. Once, when Kirk's team is a day late getting back, he sends them both a PADD message:  
  
 _Hey fellas – we're okay, just running late. Occurred to me this evening that you two might be wondering. My sensitive little co-survivors. Ha ha. LOVE CAPTAIN KIRK!_  
  
Sulu assumes Kirk was drunk when he wrote that. He goes to see Kirk the morning he gets back, feeling a little guilty, because Chekov is having a run, but Sulu told Chekov he was going to drop in and say hello to the captain on the way to the greenhouse. Chekov just grinned, laced his sneakers up and told Sulu to tell the captain that his PADD message made him laugh.  
  
Kirk answers the door with wet hair, wearing a black robe. He beams at Sulu, who laughs and scratches at his hair nervously.   
  
"Wanted to make sure you got back safe," Sulu says. There's a tightness in his throat, and it's hard to hold Kirk's gaze. They got back four months ago and Sulu hasn't been alone with Kirk since before they left 005-YUL.   
  
"Yeah, I'm alright," Kirk says. "Want to come in?"  
  
"I'd better not."  
  
They both laugh, Sulu looking away and Kirk smirking like Sulu is an adorably nervous child who has shown up in costume to trick-or-treat.  
  
"I guess I could come in for a minute," Sulu says. He's really fucking relieved to find Kirk alone. Every time Kirk flirts with a yeoman on the bridge, or even Uhura, Sulu kind of feels like he's been stabbed.   
  
"Make yourself at home," Kirk says, heading for a walk-in closet while Sulu stands in the middle of Kirk's spacious quarters, feeling awkward. Kirk's bed is unmade, and Sulu's body is throbbing with the desire to sink into the sheets and curl up there, to breathe in the smell of Kirk until Kirk slides up against him.  
  
Kirk emerges from the closet dressed in his uniform, straightening the sleeves. He gets two cups of coffee from the replicator and brings one over for Sulu. They sit at a little table near Kirk's impressive aquarium, which is full of species of fish and anemones from Earth. Someone must have cared for it while he was gone. Spock, maybe, or Bones.  
  
"Caffeine is fucking powerful now, isn't it?" Kirk says with a grin as Sulu drinks. Sulu nods and sets his cup down.  
  
"I'll be jittery all day," he says.   
  
"It's good to see you, man," Kirk says, leaning back and folding his hands behind his head. "Sorry I've been so busy. I miss you and Pavel a lot. Hey, c'mon," he says, laughing and reaching across the table to put his hand over Sulu's wrist as Sulu tries to laugh his tears away.  
  
"I'm not crying," Sulu says, shaking his head. "I don't know why. My eyes just watered up. That's all."  
  
"C'mere," Kirk says, pulling Sulu out of his chair. Sulu exhales with anxious relief as Kirk pulls him into his lap. Sulu straddles Kirk's lap and wraps his arms around Kirk's shoulders, letting Kirk hold him like he's a child. Kirk rubs Sulu's back while Sulu clings to him, and Sulu should get up, he should run away, but he just holds on, squeezing his eyes shut.   
  
"I've got to go," Sulu says, his voice muffled against Kirk's shoulder.  
  
"Just relax for a minute, Lieutenant," Kirk says, his fingers scratching up the back of Sulu's neck, pushing into his carefully groomed hair. "It's okay."  
  
"It's not okay. Kirk. Shit. Don't – I can't –"  
  
"Baby, _calm down_ ," Kirk says. He gives Sulu's waist a squeeze. "This isn't really happening."  
  
"It – what?"  
  
"You're dreaming, Sulu."   
  
Sulu sits back and frowns. Kirk is warm and real between Sulu's thighs, his eyes as bright as any reality Sulu has ever known.   
  
"What?"   
  
Kirk lets out a sharp laugh and covers his mouth with his free hand, winks.  
  
"Just fucking with you, Lieutenant," he says. "C'mere."  
  
They kiss for a little while, Kirk's hands sneaking under Sulu's shirt and roaming from Sulu's back to his chest. When Sulu starts to get hard he dismounts and stumbles for the door, thanking Kirk for the coffee. He wants Kirk to chase after him, to pin him to the wall and take charge, rip his uniform pants down, but Kirk just sighs and lets Sulu go. On the bridge, Sulu is shaky from the coffee, from the kiss, and all it takes is one sweet smile from Chekov to send him to hell and make him promise himself it will never happen again. When Kirk arrives he seems unaffected, and he spends most of the shift discussing their next mission with Spock.   
  
"Let's get married," Sulu says to Chekov that night when they're both lying in bed and reading their PADDs, Sulu just staring blankly at his, seeing nothing. Chekov looks over at him and laughs.  
  
"I mean it," Sulu says, grabbing Chekov's arm.  
  
"No, you don't," Chekov says. He kisses Sulu's cheek. "And I am too young, Hikaru."  
  
"You would never marry me, would you? Because of what happened."  
  
Chekov sighs and puts his PADD aside. He gives Sulu a look, as if Sulu is the one who is four years younger and hopelessly immature.   
  
"Hikaru," he says. "If you need to marry me to prove something to yourself, or to me, or – to the _keptin_ , maybe – that is okay. I would not want to marry anyone but you, anyway. But I would rather wait until your reasons are better. You can understand this?"  
  
Sulu pulls Chekov to him and kisses the top of his head until he feels calm again. Chekov is a miracle and Sulu would die without him. He lies awake for most of the night, holding Chekov against his chest and listening to his soft breath as he sleeps, trying to figure out how he can make it all up to him. He thinks very seriously about transferring to another ship and taking Chekov with him, never seeing Kirk again. He's halfway made up his mind to do it when the door to his room slides open, the light in the hallway framing a dark silhouette before the person who just broke in slips inside, the door shutting behind him.  
  
"Hey!" Sulu shouts, sitting up, and Chekov bolts upright beside him. Sulu starts to scream for the lights, then remembers that no one but Chekov has his door code, and only one person on board has the authority to override it.   
  
"Hey," Kirk whispers. "Hey guys. Hey. Sorry. Didn't want to wake you if I didn't have to."  
  
He sounds very drunk, and he's wobbling on his feet in the middle of the room. Sulu groans. Chekov laughs.  
  
"It's just that I haven't been sleeping," Kirk says, stumbling a little.   
  
"Come here, _Keptin_ ," Chekov says, throwing the blankets back and patting the space on the bed between them. Sulu whirls to look at him, frowning, and Chekov raises his eyebrows, shrugs. Before Sulu can even think about what this means, if Chekov loves him enough to give him this or if he loves Kirk more than Sulu ever dared to comprehend, Kirk is flopping onto the bed between them, moaning and rolling onto his stomach.  
  
"Oh, thanks, guys," he mumbles into the pillow, already half-asleep. "I just – I'll just rest here for a minute. Then I'll go back to my room. Thanks, really, thanks. Love you, baby." He gropes for Sulu, then Chekov. "And my little Jailbait, aww, there you are."  
  
Chekov rolls his eyes, still smiling. Sulu's mouth is hanging open as he watches Chekov scramble down to the end of the bed to unlace Kirk's left boot.   
  
"Come help me, Hikaru," Chekov says, nodding to the other boot. Sulu can't seem to make himself move. Kirk nuzzles against Sulu's side and begins to snore.  
  
"He's drunk," Sulu says.   
  
"So?" Chekov yanks at Kirk's boot, grunting a little when he can't pull it off. "He needs us."   
  
Sulu helps Chekov with Kirk's boots, at a loss for words. Chekov yawns, stretches, then lies down against Kirk's side, his hand spread out on Kirk's back as he gets comfortable.  
  
"Pavel!" Sulu hisses, and Chekov cracks his eyes open, looking up at Sulu. "What – what –"  
  
"It doesn't matter, Hikaru," Chekov says, whining and sounding very tired. He cuddles up to Kirk again, moaning as he rubs his face against Kirk's shoulder. "Just to go sleep. Roll him onto his side if you don't want him to snore."  
  
"Pavel! Pavel – you – you can't just decide to uncomplicate this."   
  
"Hikaru." Pavel groans. "If you keep trying to tell me what to do I will change my mind about marrying you."  
  
"Don't be cute! Goddammit, Pavel. This is – a serious thing you're doing."  
  
"Mmm, yes. Go to sleep, Hikaru."  
  
"Yeah, really," Kirk mutters, vaguely cognizant. Kirk finds Sulu's arm and pulls him down. Sulu is shaking as he settles against Kirk's shoulder, staring over his broad back at Chekov, who blinks those big eyes at Sulu, his fist curled over his mouth.   
  
"I said I wanted to sleep in your bed," Chekov whispers. "Just let me do this and don't worry so much."  
  
Chekov closes his eyes, and Sulu watches him sink into sleep, his head resting on Kirk's shoulder. Sulu wants to get up and pace, write them both angry letters about how this is not sustainable, how they are acting like children, driving him out of his mind by pretending to want to give him everything. But maybe they're not pretending. Maybe right now, in this moment, all either of them wants is to lie here and sleep in his bed.   
  
He's not always going to be able to give both of them what they want, and most of the time he won't even come close. He knows that, won't let them allow him to forget it. But now, right now, in this isolated moment that will last until they wake, he can. So he closes his eyes and lets out a deep, shaky breath. Tries to calm down.  
  
In the morning, Kirk is hungover. Chekov gets him a cool cloth for his forehead and Sulu holds a bottle of water while Kirk gulps half of it down. Kirk flops back to the bed with a moan and Sulu slaps the snooze button on the alarm. He's rigged his lights so that they increase slowly as the time to get up approaches, like dawn breaking on Chekuluirk. The three of them lie there in the bluish quiet, waking each other gently with dry kisses, and for a moment they all pretend that the synthetic light is good enough to fool them, that they're still in a place where they are allowed to belong to each other.  
  



End file.
